Burning Daylight
by pasadisu
Summary: There were a few things Red-X didn't realize would happen when he decided to save an unconscious, half-demonic Titan on a whim: that her soul would attach to his, that her spirit would haunt his apartment - and that she would jumpstart his heart.
1. On a Whim

**A/N**

Hey, friends, welcome to my first Teen Titans story!

Love, love, love the show, but it has been a bit of time since I last watched it. Still, you don't quite forget the characters - buuut, my memory may be foggy. I tried my best to keep everyone in character, but I am extremely open to suggestions, criticisms, what have you.

I hope you guys enjoy it!

Please be a darlin' and drop a review on your way out!

* * *

 **O1.** On a Whim

"Van Gogh was impulsive."

 _Joni Mitchell_

Red-X watched Raven from a distance. She had landed haphazardly onto a rooftop, about three buildings away from his own. Her legs gave out after the first step; she stumbled toward the edge of the roof, leaning against cement. It looked like she had been in one hell of a battle, he thought to himself. He could see holes in her cape, which only meant her body was banged up as well. He wondered if — ah, yup — Raven pushed herself off the building, her powers holding her in the air for only a few seconds before giving way. He watched her hand reach out futilely to the ledge before disappearing into shadows. There was a bang and clang of bins and body; he winced at the noise. How far down was that? A three story drop?

Was she dead?

Well, it really wasn't any of his concern.

And in all honesty, it was probably a lot harder to kill a Titan than just a fall. They were like roaches. There were also rumors circulating underground that she was a demon as well, and according to all of the fantasy games he played, they didn't die from drops like that.

Red stood up and stretched out his aching limbs. It had been quite a few weeks since his last heist; his entire body was begging for a little exercise, which was why he had left the iron-grip of Netflix to go rob the blue jewel that everyone had been clamoring about in his apartment complex. It had been an easy steal. Red had broken into bathrooms with more security than what that jewelry store had — a few camera tweaking, some motion sensors, some fancy-looking doohickey that triggered with weight. Fifteen minutes tops, and only because he got a foot cramp and had to massage it out for five minutes.

And then, on the way back, he had seen her fluttering around, a bird with broken wings. He had followed her for a block on the rooftops; she hadn't noticed him.

It had been interesting to watch. From the few times he had fought with her (and the many times he had accidentally stumbled onto a Titan fight on his way home), she had always seemed so powerful and in control. He had thought it was near impossible to reduce her to such a state, but then that only meant that whoever or whatever she had been fighting had been extremely powerful.

Speaking of, where was the rest of her annoying crew?

Red paused and looked around, searching the cloudy night skies for a sign of Boy Blunder and his rag-tag misfit team of heroes. He didn't see anyone on the roofs, nor was there any red-headed alien in the sky. Except for the buzzing of the crickets and the occasional cat yowl, it was silent. He didn't even hear Raven stir from where she had fallen in the alley, probably on some dumpers or trashcans. He cracked his neck. It wasn't any of his concern —

— But he teleported onto her rooftop anyways and peered over the edge.

She was sprawled on the ground, having slammed into two trashcan bins and heavily dented them, but she was still breathing. He jumped off and teleported midair to land above her, his feet on either side of her body.

"Hm."

To leave her or not to leave her.

"That is the question," he murmured.

"What is the question, X?"

He didn't turn around at the voice, having already identified the man from his foul stench.

"Evening, Golem," he said. Red bent over and pulled a banana peel out of her hair, throwing it over his shoulder. He heard it land some feet away, and then a sickening slurp.

"Delicious, hehe!"

"Don't quite have time for you right now."

"I'm hurt, X." Golem feigned crying with too much effort. "Even though I came all the way out here to find you. I've got some new information for you, X, a juicy bit that you'll — who's that?"

Red withheld an annoyed sigh. It was dark and they were feet away from each other, but it was still difficult to hide the fact that there was a body in the middle of the alleyway. Not only that, but Golem had a weird sense of smell, able to sniff out whether or not a woman was menstruating (a fact that Golem had once bragged to Red, though it had definitely been too much information); it wouldn't be hard for him to smell another presence.

He hoped that her Titan identity would stay secret; it'd be difficult if Golem ran around with his big mouth. Red made sure he stood in the other man's sight, blocking any attempt at a curious scrutinizing.

"What are you going to do with her?" Golem's raspy voice sounded too interested in the topic, not in the curiously innocent way, either; it was almost as if he had plans of his own depending on Red's answer.

"What's the new intel?" Red had decided to ignore the question, mainly because he wasn't quite sure himself what he was going to do with the Titan, but automatically, as if his limbs had already decided without consulting his brain, he reached out to scoop her in his arms, careful not to move anything too roughly. She smelled of blood and trash, not the best up-close impression he had wanted of her.

"X," Golem sang, "what are you going to do with her?"

When she was in full in his arms and off the ground, he glanced at Golem, making sure that his back was still to him. The streetlamp casted an eerie glow against Golem's small, hunched over figure. His eyes looked more yellow than usual, and maybe that was because Red had been binge-watching _Supernatural_ for the past three days; whatever the reason, it only added to the sense of unease, and he found himself tensing, ready to bolt or fight. Red had never known Golem to be a fighter, only a rat that smelled out information, but it wouldn't be wrong to assume that everyone had an alter ego.

He wasn't too keen on sticking around to find out Golem's, especially with the way his crooked teeth was spread against his smile.

"Whatever I want, Golem," Red replied, cutting it short. "I'll find you later, for that intel."

Golem waved his fingers good bye as Red steadied himself to teleport; the smile never left his face. Red frowned, not quite liking what his sixth sense was telling him. Golem had always been eccentric, but that right there was downright creepy. It was times like these that Red was thankful to do business miles away from his home.

* * *

Teleporting away had been hard, considering the suit wasn't meant to transport more than one person. It fizzed out often, only taking them some feet ahead, forcing Red to play it safe through the streets. Sometimes his luck picked up and the suit teleported them blocks away, and other times it would sting him as if reprimanding him for asking so much. It took thirty minutes to get back to his neighborhood, and an extra ten minutes to even get into his apartment.

Red genuinely felt bad that it was taking so long, feeling as though he was contributing to her injuries if not making more, but in all of the struggles of getting home, she had not once shifted awake.

When he had finally set her down on his bed, the possible consequences of his actions finally began to settle into his mind.

Why had he saved her?

Why had he brought her back to his place?

"Well, I mean, I could always move…" he mumbled to himself in reply. "The fucking neighbors have been getting on my last nerve."

Who could have so much sex so often? And his dick hadn't fallen off yet? Never mind the fact that Red was a little bit jealous, but still, they were questions that needed answers.

Shaking his head free of all of the extra thoughts, Red stared at the girl — no, the half-demon Titan — lying in his bed and tried to pull together plans B, C, D, E, and F, and only being able to figure out portions and pieces that didn't really make any sense.

Honestly, he could move, he didn't care too much for this apartment. Looking around the room, he didn't see anything that would reveal his identity: no incriminating photos, no checkbooks, no ID's sitting around — oh, shit, there was his wallet on the ground right next to the bed. Huh, maybe this wasn't the best idea.

Red rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling very aware of the mask on his face and how he wouldn't be able to take it off today. And was he supposed to patch her up? His mind buzzed with questions and confusions and sudden regrets.

 _There you go again, Red,_ he thought to himself, _doing things on a whim. When are you gonna learn?_

She was bleeding on his bed. His favorite blanket. And by god she _reeked_.

 _Goddammit._ He didn't like to half-ass things. While still rubbing the back of his neck and still wondering what excitingly stupid choice he was going to make next, Red left the room to go fumble through the bathroom cabinet.

When he managed to locate the three first-aid kits he had, he brought them to his room and set them on the floor. Opening them, he looked around for the disinfectant, and then the thought suddenly struck him that he wouldn't know what to do about her broken bones. Well, first things first.

Sitting up on his knees, he checked the Titan on the bed. Tentatively, Red reached out and gently grabbed her wrist, pausing to stare at her face, waiting for a reaction. Nothing happened. _Coma_ quickly ran through his mind, but that was a worse-case scenario (or was that a best case scenario, because then he wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone and could just drop her off at T-Tower like a stork). He lifted her wrist a little higher, eyes still on her face, and then cautiously checked the budding bruises. So far, nothing _looked_ to be out of place; there was nothing protruding from her skin that shouldn't have been, which seemed to be a good sign. Still, it wasn't as though he was a doctor.

Gently, he raised her arm higher to check the underside, and as he did so, the jewel on her forehead began to emit a white light. It started off small and dull, and then it quickly enveloped her whole body right as he blinked in confusion. Then, with wide eyes, he watched it creep up his arm. Red yelped and jumped backward, letting go of her arm, but it was too late. The light engulfed him in a bright flash; he cringed, closing his eyes against the light, but as soon as it had happened, it disappeared.

The white light was gone. In its place was a dull black glow around Raven's body, which was now floating a few inches above the bed. It was the color of her activated powers; was it protecting her now? This was a good sign, right? Demons probably had some sort of healing abilities — in the games they did, but it wasn't as if he could only rely on gaming lore. How correct could a bunch of nerds really be? Still, it certainly looked to be the case, and he didn't have any other theories at the moment.

Checking his own body, Red saw no adverse effects, much to his relief. He even checked his ears to make sure they didn't turn pointed and his forehead for any horns (though he wouldn't have minded awesome demon powers, but alas).

Red looked to her and then to the disinfectant in his hands, unsure of whether or not to trust his hypothesis. Then again, better safe than sorry, he thought.

Slowly, he reached out and touched her hand. The light didn't extent to him, nor did it reject him; he was still able to touch her, so that was probably a good sign that there wouldn't be any repercussions. Some of the nastier cuts were on her right thigh, he noted. Taking the disinfectant, he poured some on a thick cotton ball and gently dabbed at the wounds on her thigh. It was a little too close to her crotch area. The smarter half of his brain hoped that she didn't wake up; the other half hoped she would to instigate crazy sex, but that was probably because he hadn't gotten laid in a while.

"Maybe I can score some points if she wakes up fine and dandy," he thought aloud. "A couple of get-out-of-jail-free cards and all that jazz."

Red chuckled, glancing at her face. "Well, if you can just offer one card, that'd be fine with me."

For a while, he worked in silence, cleaning up the blood and wondering if it was all futile. Did demon bodies even get infections? Well, rumor had it she was half-demon, so maybe… Gah, it was too confusing to think about, and either way, if he didn't clean it up it would drip all over the bed (as it was currently doing) and damage his favorite blanket even further.

There was a voice in the back of his head that wanted to berate him for impulse actions, but he kicked it in the face and left it lying in the dirt. When would he learn? Never, because life was more interesting this way, right? _Right._

Was it weird if he… _Meh, no half-assing._

He gently pried her legs apart slowly, waiting to see if it would disturb her comatose state or activate another weird light explosion. When nothing happened, he let go of a breath he realized he had been holding in the pit of his feet, and then proceeded to dab at the inner thighs, trying not to think about how close he was to certain areas and how curious he was.

But he was a gentleman — sort of. At least, sexual assault and rape were out of the picture (unless you counted the times he had pinned Starfire and whispered sexually explicit things in her ear, but that was different crime for a different time).

And then, as he shifted his hand and dabbed at another cut, the worst happened.

" _What_ are you _doing_?"

Red froze. He stared at Raven's face, deep in her sleep, and then slowly turned his head toward the door where he saw another Raven, wide awake with eyes that spoke of demonic castigations and castrations, at the minimum.

He turned back to the Titan in the bed, and then once again looked back at the Titan in the doorway. He almost wanted to comically scratch his head, if his mask and suit weren't in the way.

"I definitely wasn't expecting this," he said, but the comment only served to anger her further by the indication of her bristling purple locks.

"I'll ask one more time," she seethed through gritted teeth. " _What_ in the _seven hells_ are you _fucking doing_?"

He looked at her and then at his hand in between her legs, and he suddenly felt less like a good samaritan and more like a criminal caught in the act. His body finally reacted, despite the fact that he was unsure if it was some sort of hallucination; either way, the anger radiating off her felt real enough. Red pushed himself to standing position, his hands in the sign of peace, holding the bloodied cloth.

"Woah, woah. Let's all just take a breather right now, alright, toots?"

He regretted the word before it even left his lips.

Everything seemed to happen in an instant. The black light enveloped both Ravens, and not a split second after, all of the lights exploded throughout his apartment, possibly in the entire complex from the sudden screams from all the neighbors. Then, as if that wasn't enough, a powerful force sent him hurtling into his bookshelf. He fell painfully onto the ground, his back throbbing from crashing into the heavy wood; to add salt to the wound, all of the books and knickknacks toppled over onto him.

The neighbors' screams continued, but the onslaught from the half-demon stopped. Red quickly crawled out of the mountain he was buried under; he held up the palms of his hands and the red glow from the x's provided a dim light. He shined the light toward the door; it took everything to not jump at the sight of her, though an honestly terrified _fuck_ escaped his lips. She looked more like the villain from the Grudge than a hero that swore loyalty to the city.

 _Holy motherfucking shit._

Her red eyes, all four of them, stared him down in between strands of her dark hair.

 _Four fucking..._

Slowly, she sank into a dark, swirling portal in the floor, never breaking eye contact with him. When she disappeared, he turned to the body in his bed and shifted into a defensive stance, but the air and the body were deathly still. Even as he was ready to paste an X over her mouth at the slightest twitch, she didn't make any movements that hinted at bloodthirsty intentions.

"Raven," he whispered, tense. No reaction.

He tried again. "…Crazy demon bitch?"

If that didn't result with her lunging at him with hands around his neck, then he was safe. As if on cue, the screams from the neighbors finally stopped; he had to wonder what other damage she had dealt to the rest of the building, but at the moment, he was quietly pleased he had survived.

Red let himself slump against the wall in relief.

"Damn!" he sighed. "What a woman."

* * *

 **A/N**

And that's the end of the chapter! What'd you guys think? Hopefully I made it an interesting enough first chapter to set up the premise. The second chapter is being worked on, and I'm hoping to get it up in a couple of weeks.

If you liked, please drop a review! They keep me loved and warm during winter time, tee-hee.


	2. No Good Deed

**A/N**

Hey, ya'll! Thanks so much for the love last chapter! I was really surprised by the positive feedback. I'm super happy that you took the time to review, even as guest readers, and super stoked that you're digging Red and the set up. I hope you continue to follow along and that I don't disappoint (:

Just some extra information: some of Raven's powers may be made up. Just be warned, bahah, but I'm doing my best to keep them in character, so powers or not, I hope you'll still like my rendition of her. Also, my gut is telling me that this story is going to have a couple of arcs, maybe more, I'm not sure, but with the changing arcs, there may be a change in summary - well, I say may, but with the second arc, I know for sure there's going to be a change in summary. Thus! I'm posting the current summary now for any future readers that stumble upon it when we're deeper in the story, so they're not completely lost, bahah.

Oh, yes, the ever-expected disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans, but Golem is mine!

 _Summary:_ When Raven's soul attaches itself to Red-X for healing purposes, it is arguably the strangest and most uncomfortable position either have ever been in - or it's the perfect opportunity for them to prove that the idea of "star-crossed" is only another boundary to break.

Not my favorite summary but it'll do. ANYWAYS. Please read, enjoy, and drop a review if you've got the time. I would very much appreciate it (:

* * *

 **O2.** No Good Deed

"My only love sprung from my only hate."

Shakespeare, _Romeo and Juliet_

The incident was known as Casper's Attack because Red had made a simple joke in passing to one of his neighbors that then spread like wildfire throughout the building. Several people had actually moved out of the complex because they were afraid of the poltergeist, while others moved in hoping to catch sight of the creature responsible for the shattering of glass and lights. In reality, the real culprit was much more interesting than any ghost, but only Red was privy to that knowledge.

It had been five days without so much as a crackle of black light from her, but Red was still careful to keep his suit on. It was annoying to wear his suit beneath his regular clothes and carry his mask everywhere, but it had to be done to keep both identities secret. Thankfully, there were no cameras in the hall; he was grateful to his past self for making that a requirement when looking for places to live.

Red stood in front of his door, holding the heavy basket in his arms. _Damn community laundry rooms_ , he thought. He pretended to jiggle with his keys as he waited for the coast to clear in the halls; then, when he was alone, he slipped the mask back on and entered his apartment.

It was disturbingly silent; nothing looked out of place. Was this a good sign or was she just waiting to ambush him?

Red dumped his clothes on the couch, his designated bed for the last few days as she was currently occupying his very comfy mattress. Quickly, he stripped down to his suit and threw the civilian clothes in with the pile and then turned on the TV. With a dog cartoon low in the background and underwear passing through his hands to be lazily folded, it was then that the logical voice in his mind spoke up once more.

What exactly was he going to do with the comatose Titan?

What if she woke up and blasted him through the roof? What if she took off his mask and _then_ blasted him through the roof? What if there was a tracking device embedded in her muscle tissue and the rest of the motley crew were going to show up any second? No, no, they would've shown up by now… Wait, what if they were already there, staking out his apartment, watching his every move…?

Before he knew it, he found himself against the wall beside his window, peeking out and scanning the horizon. He didn't see anything, but the feeling in his gut didn't go away; he lowered his blinds and returned to folding the clothes. God, he couldn't live with all of this stress.

Maybe he could dump her body at an orphanage. Maybe he could just set off the alarm of some bank and drop her body in the vault. If he was lucky, she would just teleport herself to the Tower and save him some trouble. Oh, but then he wouldn't get his free get-out-of-jail card for saving her life.

 _Bah_ , who was he kidding, he wasn't going to get that reward, and it wasn't as if he really needed it. Jump City Prison was a walk through the park, even without the suit.

So then, why? What for? To what end? _Why so many questions, Red?_ _Why?_

"X."

Red jumped out of his seat and held a red x-shaped weapon in his hand, ready to at least put up a fight before being sent through the window. He saw the ghost of pride flash through her purple eyes at his anxious reaction, but she didn't move from where she leaned against the wall.

"Calm down," Raven said with an almost roll of the eyes.

His back was still aching from when she flung him into his bookshelf, warning him not to trust her words. Red lowered his hand but remained stiff, ready for a fight (or a beating). Even though he was on edge, he was hoping that she wasn't at her 100%. There was no way she could be, because she would've blasted him by now and/or left, or even brought her cheerleaders in. Besides, demons had to have flaws, too, especially half-demons. Whatever she did last time, it was extremely powerful and without her incantation; maybe there were side effects, consequences, as a result. He had hope and logic on his side, but he still regarded her suspiciously.

"You've got some explaining to do," she said. Though her voice was calculatingly monotonous, there was an edge to the way her arms were folded, a sense of panicked dread she couldn't hide — did that mean he was in control? Or at least in a position to take the reigns? And the million dollar question: which Raven was this?

"So, I'm the Lucy in this scenario?" Red mused. "Well, I do look mad good in pearls."

"Cut the crap, X," she growled, "or I swear I'll — "

"Swear what, that you'll blow out my lightbulbs again? Which, by the way, wasn't very nice, toots."

She stood at the hallway entrance, glaring at him, and despite his stupid egging, she wasn't doing anything. No retaliation, no comebacks with a cool gaze, no weird demon light — now _this_ was something he could get behind. Things started clicking into place as he mentally checked off facts and hypotheses.

The little bird was trapped in a cage. And it wasn't even his cage! He just happened to stumble on by with a bag of popcorn.

Red twirled the x smoothly in between his fingers.

"Your body's still tucked in between my sheets, huh," he remarked.

Her silence was answer enough.

"But you're sticking around, wanting answers, instead of trying to beat it out of me. Hm…." He tapped his chin in a mocking manner. "Seems to me like you've got some technical difficulties. Am I wrong?"

She narrowed her eyes; it looked as though she was trying to draw blood from her arm, the way her nails were digging into her skin. She still didn't answer him, but by that point, he didn't need her to say anything; the situation was quickly coming to light.

In one swift motion, he kicked the clothes off his chair and sat down, resting his feet on the coffee table. He kept his eyes on her and continued twirling the x, trying to give a show of relaxed confidence when he really just wanted to get under her skin.

"Take a seat, toots," Red said, motioning to the only other empty chair, as the couch was occupied with more clothes. "Unless ghosts phase right through?"

"Stop calling me toots," she growled. "And I'm not a ghost." As if to prove her point, she sat down.

"Coulda had me fooled, Casper."

"It's a shame I can't throw that table at you."

Red shrugged, smirking under his mask. "Depends on the point of view."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both staring at each other, trying to decipher what was happening behind closed doors. Red had a million questions, and he was sure she did as well, but he didn't want to be the first to ask. He currently had the power; it needed to stay in his court, and breaking first was a sign of weakness. He'd sit and twirl his x for hours if he needed to.

Thankfully, she was the one to finally initiate conversation.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I saved you."

The shock on her face brought him more joy than he could have ever imagined.

"You're joking," she deadpanned.

"Nope," he said. "Brought you back to my humble abode and patched you up myself."

Raven seemed unconvinced; that, or she was horrified at the idea of him actually doing a good deed. Her hands were relaxed in her lap; she seemed to have perfect control over her body, but he could see the trains whizzing by behind her eyes, could see the muscles in her fingers wanting to clench into frustrated fists.

"It's true," he said. "I didn't scoop you out of your nest, if that's what you're thinking."

"Obviously not," she snapped. "We were fighting a new villain. I — there were some miscalculations." Raven frowned and turned her head, tilting it to stare at the base of the coffee table as if the memories weren't coming easily to her.

"So, you were getting your asses handed to ya."

She shot him a glare.

"Hey," Red said, shrugging again, "I'm not the one in a weird-ass coma in the enemy's bed. Just saying."

"Please shut the fuck up."

It took everything in his body to not crack up at how mad she was. He had almost forgotten how easy it was to rile her up, having stayed out of the Titans' hair for some months now. Granted, she was in a pretty shitty situation, so her short temper was to be expected, but still, the humor factor was definitely there.

"Alright, alright, I'll be serious," he said. "I do have some questions about the weirdness going on in my room."

"I have questions about what you're planning on doing with me," Raven said in retaliation. "I suggest you think very carefully about your answers, X."

She crossed her arms as Red positioned his leg against his chest on the chair, leaning against it comfortably.

"You've got quite a mouth for someone who's _not_ in the position to be throwing threats around," he noted aloud, chuckling. The noise was warped by the synthesizer, a sound he still couldn't get used to, even after all these years. "But, I'll humor you. And I'll go first, since I'm the man of the house, after all."

Raven looked like she wanted to say something sarcastic, but instead, she settled for rolling her eyes.

"Why are there two of you?" he asked. "Not that I mind double the amount of legs."

"I thought you were going to be serious."

He _was_ being serious; she had nice legs.

"This form is an extension of my spirit," she said. "My powers allow me to separate my mind and body when needed."

Hmm, so she _did_ have access to her powers. But, she had yet to blast him through the roof, even after all the poking and prodding he had done to her patience. Now, why was that? _A limited access…?_

"Alright then," he said. "Shoot."

"What happened?" she asked again, and then added, "from your point of view."

He could tell she was nervous and uncomfortable with this particular question from the way she couldn't maintain eye contact. He wondered just how much she could remember, and how much of his story she would believe.

"Nothing particularly interesting. I was coming back from a heist," Red said. "I saw you stumbling around on the rooftops. You fell off into an alleyway — three, four stories high." She visibly winced. "So I picked you up and bam, here we are."

Her mouth opened, but Red beat her to it — "Ah, my turn, sunshine." He had the feeling that she was going to ask him the dreaded question: why did he save her? He still didn't even have a proper answer to give to himself, much less to her, and that was something that she didn't need to know.

"Alright, so before you fucked up my apartment and threw me against my bookshelf," — there was a faint trace of a smirk on her face — "some weird light thing happened."

"Care to be more specific?" she retorted.

"I touched your arm to check it, and then you started shining and some weird light came out and then it got all over me," he explained, unsure of how else to properly say it. During his explanation, he tried using his hands to help her picture how the light had engulfed him, though maybe it only served to confuse her more. "It seemed harmless enough," he added. At least, that's what he hoped.

"The light…engulfed you?" she said. At first, it seemed as if she didn't believe him; Raven stared at him impassively, almost bored, tapping her fingers as though she felt there were better, more important questions to be asked and answered, but then something seemed to have clicked in her mind. Her facial expression quickly changed to one of shock. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly agape as she stared at him as if for the first time.

"The light engulfed you," Raven said again, though it was more matter-of-fact this time.

He was almost scared of what she realized, but to keep from showing the desire to tense his body, he kept his knee bouncing.

"Care to share with the rest of the world?" he asked. The synthesizer didn't hide the impatience in his tone.

Raven hesitated. She fixed her expression into one that was carefully crafted, expertly still; she glanced at him before setting her gaze on the blank wall.

"It seems," she started quietly, "my soul has attached to you…" The way she phrased it and the straight, rigidness of her back were the only two indicators of anything happening underneath her mask.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The light that engulfed us both — it's my powers, my soul, attaching to you," she elaborated. "You say I fell off a building; then, my injuries must be great. A simple healing coma isn't enough. I…" She paused, obviously uncomfortable while Red was freaking out inside and trying to contain it. "Most likely, I subconsciously attached to you because you're healthy and you were right there and my body needed the extra energy."

"So… What you're saying is that…you're _leeching_ off of me."

Unfortunately, Red couldn't come up with a stupid joke to lighten the situation as he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she was a demonic parasite feeding off his soul.

The thought of it sent shivers down to his now tainted core. This demonic-magic-power-weird-light stuff was cool in theory and in video games; hell, it was funny to watch it happen to _other_ people, but now that he found himself in the very middle of it, it suddenly gave him the creeps. Red himself didn't have any powers, and he definitely did not envy others who did, especially when things like this happened. He felt very invaded, even though he didn't feel any different.

"Great," was all he managed to say.

"I'm not happy about it either," Raven said and rolled her eyes. She seemed to be handling it a lot better than he. Then again, it was her powers, and it probably had happened before. Maybe this was the first time with a villain — that fact had to at least bug her. That made him feel a little better, but not by much.

 _Alright, maybe this is doable,_ he thought, trying to calm himself. _Just…go off the check list. Right._

"No side effects?" Red asked. "I'm not gonna wake up shooting lasers out my eyes or something?"

"It's…never been to this extent before," she admitted, and he almost groaned aloud. "We'll just have to wait and see."

This was definitely the worst case scenario.

"Oh, what fun," he said.

Raven shrugged, unamused and unsympathetic. "You brought this upon yourself."

"I guess that's the last time I'll do something nice for someone else."

"Right, because you're normally such a good samaritan," she scoffed. "What do you want, X? You didn't just pick me up out of the blue. You're after something."

He didn't reply. He didn't have an answer, but the silence on his part seemed to give off a superior air of mystery, and that was something he liked.

"You said you'd answer questions," she said.

"No," he replied. "I said I had questions and that I'd humor you. Though, I think I'm a little bored with this game now, sweet cheeks."

"Don't call me that."

Red chuckled, mentally cracking his knuckles. He could write volumes about how many nicknames he had to aggravate pretty girls.

"Why did you save me?" she prodded.

Red once again brought out his x and twirled it between his fingers. Sometimes he wished he didn't have the mask on, as he enjoyed making mocking facial expressions; as it was, he could only rely on his machine-driven voice and body language, and they could only take him so far.

"Wouldn't it have been better to just let me die?"

 _Probably._

He observed her from the protection of the plastic, but her face was set in a cold curiosity. She sat up straight, not a hair out of place, but upon closer examination he could see that her jaw was tense, on edge.

"You're right," he said finally. "I didn't save you out of my goodwill."

"Of course not," she said, and leaned back in her chair. "'Looking out for number one,' right?"

"You took the words right out my mouth, babe."

"Don't call me that."

That was going to be her catchphrase; he was sure of it.

"Don't worry about it, babe," he said, smirking when he saw her twitch at the pet name. "Just be grateful that I did save your life."

Raven ignored his comment. "Money? Is that your end game?" She almost sneered it at him, but her tone had stayed the same and her face had only minutely shifted in expression.

Red snorted. "I believe the expression is, 'work smarter,' not harder."

But, in his case, he was working all on gut instinct alone. There wasn't any specific reason he had saved her. Impulse? A moment of stupidity? He couldn't recall what was going through his mind when he saw her on top of the cans and the trash, couldn't remember what he was thinking when he teleported down and picked her up, hiding her from Golem's view.

For whatever reason, he brought her back.

For whatever reason, he decided to keep her and patch her up.

Maybe it was the same reason her soul had attached to him — right place, right time? And maybe he did it _just because_. It was the reason he stole the kid's suit, the reason why he had orange juice that morning instead of his regular coffee.

Red threw the x at the wall as he smoothly brought his feet off the table and onto the ground, leaning forward in the chair. She didn't flinch as it whizzed by her head, embedding itself in the plaster behind her, right beside some ugly painting of flowers he had stolen on a whim.

"Immunity," he said finally. "I want immunity. Stay out of my hair and I'll stay out of yours."

Raven narrowed her purple eyes at him; her face visibly tightened.

"That's never going to happen," she said matter-of-factly. She crossed her arms under her chest, her chin tilted as if she was looking down at him from up on her superhero high horse.

Red folded his hands under his chin. "Maybe not," he said, "but that's only _if_ your teammates want to find you at the bottom of the ocean."

"You wouldn't," — there was a split second's hesitation in her words that pleased him —"You're a thief, X, not a killer."

Red chuckled, trying to make it as intimidating as possible, and the synthesizer definitely helped. "Do you want to bet your life on that, sweetheart?"

She didn't have anything to say in response, eyeing him as if in a different light. Red had to bite down on his tongue to keep from spitting laughter in her face.

She was right, and it didn't pain him to admit it; he wasn't a killer, just a little thief trying to make his way in a cruel, cruel world. But, hey, she didn't need to know that. As long as she believed her life was in his hands, maybe he could get away with some of his demands.

"Immunity," he stated smugly.

"Fine," Raven said, and for a moment, he was surprised, almost disappointed, until — "Kill me."

Behind his mask, he blinked, confused, curious, and, dare he say it, a little excited.

"Robin will find you. My friends will find you," she continued. "And I swear on my death that I'll haunt you to the end, X. You're not getting away from me, and you're _not_ getting immunity."

Well, now…

Red grinned, highly amused. She took everything so seriously.

"Good answer, birdie," he said with another chuckle.

The glare never left her face, but that was okay, because the mask was never leaving his. He would win this game, even if the only reward was bragging rights.

* * *

Red watched TV the rest of that day, a very intense marathon of _The Walking Dead_. He didn't know what Raven was up to. Sometimes, she would come into the living room, stand by the wall; she'd never take a seat beside him, or near him, actually, but he assumed her form didn't get tired. He could hear her scoffing at the TV, could feel her roll her eyes, but he never paid her too much attention. After a few minutes, she would disappear to whatever room, leaving him to wonder if she was snooping around the apartment.

 _Good luck, sunshine_ , he thought, as he had already hidden his more intimate belongings. The most personal she could get after all his efforts was his underwear, and of that, he was quite proud.

Eventually, the clock struck nine and he had to turn off the television. Raven walked into his room where he found ghost Raven sitting next to comatose Raven; both looked like they were meditating. He was going to resist rolling his eyes until he remembered that he had the mask on. Picking up his black backpack off the floor, he unzipped it to check the contents; when all was well, he slung it over his shoulder.

Raven opened one eye. "Going somewhere?" she asked suspiciously.

"Time for work, babe," he said.

"Time to steal, you mean."

"Tomato, tomato," he replied. "Try not to break anything while I'm gone. Oh, and stay out of my underwear drawer."

She glared at him; he saluted her playfully and teleported out of the room and onto the roof of his apartment complex. He stretched his limbs again out of habit, feeling pretty good underneath the light of the moon, despite the fact that he was harboring a dangerous Titan - worse than a fugitive, in his opinion. He double checked all of his gadgets, not wanting to make a pitstop in his hideout.

Red ran and leapt off the ledge, teleporting and running atop the city with a hidden smile. Sometimes he wished he could feel the rush of the wind through his hair, the feel of the night on his skin, but unfortunately, there were more important reasons to keep his mask on.

It had been a while since he had last seen Golem. Red still needed to know the new intel, as that was what he was paying the guy for, but there were a few other errands on his list as well, ones that he couldn't ignore: switch Old Man Yazzo's welcome mats, steal some books from the library, return some socks he had bought at Walmart last week (he refused to steal from Walmart, as he valued their conveniency and prices and vowed to support the corporation with his blood money) — oh, right, checking the alleyway and the Titans' crib was on the list, too, but the sock thing was really important to him.

He teleported to the usual meeting spot, on top of an old apartment complex. He was sure it was Golem's home base, but he never cared enough to snoop around on the lower floors.

Red took his seat on the crate; there was an X on the side that he had carved out of boredom one time when Golem had him waiting for two godforsaken hours. Automatically, Red's knee bounced, and he leaned back, his hands on the edge of the metal; his neck strained to look up at the skies, counting how many constellations he could name.

 _Eight…Nine….Ten?_

Abruptly, he heard the familiar sound of scurrying on the side of the building, and sure enough, Golem's hand emerged from the side of the ledge, large and coarse. He pulled himself over and landed low and shakily.

"'Bout time," Red said. "Thought I was gonna have to wait two hours again."

Golem snickered, dusting his old coat off. "Why, never, X, never," he said innocently.

"Alright, give me the news. What have you got?"

Golem pressed his hands together; a visible shiver dragged along his skin as he giggled giddily. "Oh, X, you'll love this," he exclaimed. "There's a new player in the big leagues. New player, yes, yes. He comes from a city far away from here; no one knows why, but he's here, and he's looking for someone to nick him what he wants."

"And what's that?"

Pulling out a sheet of paper, Golem handed it to Red who tried not to get too close to him due to the lurking smell of rotten bananas and rust. Red unfolded it and took a glance at the hastily written words, raising a brow behind his mask.

"This is a weird request," he said.

"But those are always the geniuses, right?" Golem sniggered. "He's offering 8.4 billion to anyone who can get it for him."

"What the fuck?" Red blurted out. "For _this_ thing?"

"Hehe, three idiots have already died trying to get it. It's no joke, X; best watch yourself if this is a job you pick up."

"Hmm." Red reread the note, and in one smooth action he crumpled it and threw it back at Golem who caught it in his mouth and swallowed the evidence. "Thanks for the intel," he said, but as he readied himself to teleport away, Golem raised out a hand excitedly as if a thought had just occurred to him.

"Wait, X. There's something else." The hunchbacked man stared at Red with a tilted head, as if he had something hidden under his sleeves. Red's stomach dropped; he didn't know why, but there was a strange feeling in his gut, a warning.

"Rumor has it," Golem began, eyes darting around, "that a _Titan's_ missing."

"Really now," Red said, feigning interest. He should've realized that it couldn't be a secret for long. "Good riddance. One less bug out of my hair."

"Indeed..." Golem smiled, his cracked teeth shimmering in the dull glow of the moon and broken street lamps.

"Nice work," Red said, saluting him casually with two fingers. "I'll see you next time."

Teleporting away, Red let out a relieved breath. He landed on an unmarked roof some blocks down and looked back in the direction from where he came. How did that information of Raven spread so quickly? He doubted the Teen Titans would've advertised to the world that one of their own was missing; that was like giving the OK to all the villains in the city, as they were short one terribly powerful demon (with one terrifying temper). And Red hadn't said anything to anyone, and obviously neither had Raven. He thought of his neighbors; he had done background checks on everyone before he moved in, and continued to do so with new tenants and checked up on the files of old tenants. Could it be possible that he missed something? That maybe one of them had faked everything; that he was actually living with a criminal mastermind?

No, no, that was ridiculous. There was only one criminal mastermind in The Arcs Apartment, and that was Red-X.

Well, he had to admit that, in comparison to many others in Jump City, Red was a bit of a small fry. He couldn't deny that there were plenty of other villains keeping a closer tab on the Titans than he out of a greater grudge. Whatever the reason, at least they didn't seem to know where Raven was, or if it was indeed Raven that was missing. All Golem said was that a Titan was missing. Unless the rat was keeping secrets, and something in the back of his mind said that he was — if that was indeed the case, Red would gladly give him a beating to remember the next time he decided to hold out on him.

Red cracked his knuckles and made his way toward the bay, teleporting himself atop a factory that was closed for the night but still huffing out smoke. The T-Tower was in his view in all of its obnoxious, gaudily-made glory. He figured there had to be some sort of commotion happening inside, but from the outside, all was quiet. Nothing seemed out of place.

The thought struck him suddenly that he should leave a note, something to let them know that Raven was okay.

"...Nah."

Red teleported toward the alley, the next on his list of chores for the night.

One good deed was good enough for the week. Any more and he might break out in hives.

* * *

 **A/N**

WHEW! And we're done with the second chapter! How was it? Comments, suggestions, criticisms - all are accepted and duly noted and loved (: I hope you enjoyed and continue to stick around.

Drop a review if you can! Have an awesome sauce Halloween, ya'll!


	3. The Caged Bird Does Not Sing

**A/N**

Hello, amigos! As promised, the third chapter.

Thank ya'll for the lovely reviews and for all of ya'll that have favorited or put this story on alert. Please keep them coming! I hope you enjoy this chapter and look forward to the next one.

By the way, did I mention that I update my profile every now and again? Check it if you're wondering what's taking so long with a chapter or what other plot bunnies I have running in my head.

* * *

O3. The Caged Bird Does Not Sing

"At the still point, there the dance is."

T.S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_

Life at the X household was uneventful — and it was driving Raven mad. It seemed that her injuries were greater than she had perceived them to be, because for the past three days, she had yet been able to do something other than sit in a chair, and even that was only temporary. Though she was grateful for the power of the healing coma, she was more than peeved that she had been reduced to Casper.

There was a low growl from her throat that she quickly reigned in, closing her eyes to meditate and calm her anger. Normally, something nearby would've burst at the sway of her emotions, but, alas, no powers. It was a weird feeling, to get extremely aggravated and have nothing happen, but she couldn't let herself get used to it.

When she felt calmer and her shoulders were more relaxed, Raven opened her eyes and exhaled, looking around the room for probably the millionth time. With nothing else to do and with no desire to go out and chat with the thief, she occupied much of her time by examining his room. She couldn't do any snooping, but looking around still killed time; furthermore, the upside to his clutter was that every time she looked, there seemed to be something new that she hadn't caught before.

Turning her head toward the bookshelves, Raven examined the books and many knickknack. It wouldn't be a lie to say that she was extremely curious about his belongings. She felt a little guilty that she was more interested in the contents of the novels than actually finding information on X, probably because she hadn't read a good book in a while. It wasn't an excuse, but still…

"Water, water, everywhere," she murmured with a frown. Raven pushed herself to standing position and stood in front of one of the shelves. She had already peered at it before, but again, there she was, finding new things to look at it — the weird collection of seemingly useless items, a new title on a new spine, just begging to be read or touched.

The first time she had looked at his shelves, she had been surprised to see that there were books in a variety of languages and genres. He had textbooks, young adult fiction, poetry, classics like _Dracula_ and _Don Quixote_ ; he even had autobiographies and DVDS of documentaries.

She was salivating, and she was annoyed. Double annoyed: not only was she bored, all of the personality in the room reminded her that he was indeed a human beneath his skull mask and machine voice, reminding her that a villain — no matter how high up he was on Robin's list — was a person, a human being, someone with likes and dislikes and reasons and relationships (usually, anyways).

But the dangerous poison of curiosity had already slipped inside. She was wondering about the man underneath the mask — not in the _I need to know his identity to arrest him_ mindset, but _what kind of person is he, how does he know all of these languages, why did he collect all of these trinkets?_ She found it to be quite a terrible mindset, actually, but she was bored, unable to touch anything, unable to leave as her body had already dictated the boundaries as X's apartment. Surrounded by nothing but someone else's belongings, her imagination began to wander and wonder, searching for a way to keep from dying of the lack of creative outlets.

Raven shook her head. No, no, she couldn't think like that, couldn't use those excuses. It didn't matter that he was more than a suit. She would take him down, even if she found out he had a wife and children. It was her job, the way of the world: he committed crimes and she put criminals in jail. Cut and dry. Black and white. Simple.

Despite the hypothetical situation, she had already come to the idea that he didn't have a wife and kids. From the lack of photos, she didn't think he had anyone in his life, actually, though there was a gnawing suspicion that he had taken everything incriminating and burned it before she had awoken. X was smart, a fact she was reluctant to admit.

Abruptly something caught her eye on the shelf. She tilted her head, curious, and then reached out for the all-black rubik's cube. Her hand went through it.

"Damn it," Raven swore.

"What'd I tell you about snooping?"

She turned her attention to the door; X was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed. He was in civilian clothes with an unbuttoned shirt, showing that he still had his suit on; the mask on his face kept her from seeing if he was honestly annoyed with her, or if he was trying to get her annoyed. It was probably the latter.

"You said to stay out of your underwear drawer," Raven said. "And I did."

She turned back to the rubik's cube, but her hands were by her side now.

"Hmm." He nodded as if impressed. "Well, now that you've shown you can follow rules, here's another one: no snooping."

"Hmm," she mimicked. "Stop me."

No reply, not even a chuckle. She always expected one. Raven resisted the urge to glance at him, forcefully reminding herself that even if she did, there wouldn't be an expression to read. She tried to extend her powers, tried to taste the scent on the air, the emotions that had to be there, but even as she clenched her fists and mentally recited her chant, nothing happened. Was this how normal people always felt? Having to figure things out through obscure clues and hints? How aggravating.

"Are you hiding something here?" she asked, rereading the book titles. She almost mesmerized the authors and locations, having read the spines so many times out of sheer boredom.

"No," he said. "Just don't like people touching what's not theirs."

Raven turned an irritated gaze on him and lifted a hand; she reached out to a book and, without breaking eye contact (at least, with his mask), her hand went straight through, further fueling her annoyance.

"Interesting," he remarked. "In that case, see anything you like?"

"Does it matter?" She rolled her eyes, wondering if he needed another demonstration. If she was being honest, then the answer was yes. There were a lot of things on his bookshelf she found interesting; actually, she found it all interesting, every book title, every knickknack, and the longer she stared, the more she poured over the shelves, the more things she found, it only added to the charm of the room — and it didn't matter, she reminded herself, because she couldn't touch anything.

Raven paused at his Shakespeare collection and swore mentally.

Once again, the thought that villains were more than villains came to the forefront of her mind.

Maybe once she was able to access more of her powers, she could do a little more in depth snooping. The idea struck her gut, since he was her savior, but another part of her reared into the conversation, mentioning that he had underlying motives to saving her and that her duty came first. One good deed did not wipe his slate clean, especially a good deed that was done out of greed.

She glanced over to the door — he was still there, watching her.

"So, X," Raven began, "you steal all of these?" She gestured to his collection, watching his head shiftily slightly to take in everything.

"Not all," he replied.

"Most."

" _Some_."

She snorted. "And you paid for the rest with the money gained by selling stolen goods."

"Well, stealing does happen to be the occupation that brings the bacon," he retorted.

X pushed himself off the wood and walked into the room, stopping a few feet from her in the center. He looked from the bookshelf next to the bed to the two against the wall across from the bed, situated with his desk in the corner next to the window.

"Hmm… Let's see," he said. After a second, he pointed at a book with a ripped blue spine. "Stole that from the library on the other side of town. Librarian was a bitch and I got tired of her nagging my ass for not paying the library fine. That one — " X pointed to a book on the second shelf with no title. "— That one's from a stupid-ass neighbor I had; bought the last copy but never read it. Oh, and that rubik's cube is from one of the neighbors here actually. I don't remember why I stole it... Probably just 'cause."

"You steal a lot of books," she commented.

He shrugged, switching a few books around on his shelf. If she recalled correctly, it was the same one she had sent him flying into; inwardly, she snickered at the memory.

"I like to read," he said simply.

"I didn't think you were capable of reading."

"Gee, surprise, surprise, I passed grade school." The eye-rolling could be heard even through the machinery in his voice. "Ah, yes, you do seem like the supreme bookworm type."

 _Says the person with three bookshelves in his room_ , but she didn't comment as there were five in her own bedroom, not including the many stacks that sat in corners.

"Must be driving you crazy not to be able to open any of these," X snickered.

"I'll manage," she deadpanned, though her eyes lingered too long at an astronomy book tucked in between two math books. There was some sort of organization, but she couldn't find the method in all of his madness. Whatever way he placed them was known only to him; to others, it looked to be thrown together randomly.

He paused in front of another shelf and then reached out and pulled out a book. He flipped through the pages; the title read, _Aperture_. She felt a surge of irritation when he tucked it under his arm.

"So," X said. "How long will I have to entertain your highness in my humble abode?"

"Forever," she replied monotonously. She saw his shoulders tense and smirked inwardly. "Maybe a little less."

"Har, har, har," X said, signaling the end of the conversation. He walked past her out of the room, the book still tucked under his arm. At first, she was surprised that he was offended, or seemed offended anyways, but then she heard whistling coming from the kitchen and then the TV turning on.

The thought suddenly struck Raven that he could strangle her and she wouldn't be able to stop him — or worse. The dark thought sat heavily in the pit of her stomach; she felt like she was going to sink through the floor with its weight, but she quickly reminded herself that he had another plan, that he had a reason to save her and to keep her alive.

But there were still plenty of evil things that he could do that wouldn't require taking her life.

She suppressed a shiver, silently praying to all the gods she knew that she would recover her powers before his plan was put into motion, or before he had more spontaneous ideas.

Raven sat down beside her body and crossed her legs. If she dwelled too long on things she couldn't control, she'd risk sinking into something she wouldn't be able to pull herself out of. She took in a slow, deep breath, and exhaled it after a three-second count. Meditating sounded good at the moment.

Closing her eyes, she tried to release all of her pent up energy and stress. She followed the steps of her people to emptying her mind, of feeling the energy of the earth course through her, the energy of Azareth alive in her blood.

 _"Immunity. Stay out of my hair and I'll stay out of yours."_

Raven frowned. What did he want? What was the end goal?

 _"Rae! Raven, look out!"_

 _A bolt of lightning. Bright blue light._

Stop — she needed to focus more. No, she needed to focus less. Her mind needed be clear; she needed it to be the river running down its path, unblocked by stones. She continued her slow breathing and sank into her position further.

 _Cars were being thrown through the air. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see long red hair and a fierce green glow. There was a masked face and footsteps that echoed through the ground. A great roar — and then she was falling, falling…_

 _A smiling skull._

 **Clang!**

"Whoops!"

Purple eyes opened in a vicious glare. Raven didn't know what she was mad at most: the fact that she was trying to meditate but she kept getting bombarded by fragmented memories or the fact that X's annoying clumsiness pulled her out before she could clearly remember what had happened.

 **Clang!**

 _What in the seven hells is he doing?_

She pushed herself to her feet and exited the room. Raven stood in the entrance of the kitchen, leaning against the wooden frame with her arms crossed. X was at the stove in the middle of a disaster. There were pots and pans and ingredients everywhere. It looked like the refrigerator had gotten fed up and just vomited everything out onto the counters. Whatever he had grabbed and opened, he hadn't put back; there was an open case of butter, uncapped bottles, half-cut vegetables, several bags of pasta. There were even items he hadn't used, but still had out, cluttering the surfaces.

X whistled as he plated his pasta, the noise staticky and shudder inducing.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Won't eat or can't?"

"Both."

His pasta looked strange. She wouldn't have wanted to eat it even if she could.

"Perfect, I wasn't going to offer you some anyway," X said.

He stopped in front of her but she didn't move, observing his new mask. This one had a carefully cut hole for his mouth, but the skull symbol and general aesthetic of the Red X costume was intact. The sight of tanned skin and white teeth beneath the skull was strange, almost comical, if she were in the right situation. But there was also a strange metal instrument, sort of like a teeth brace, that was a couple of inches in front of his mouth. It seemed to be what was changing his voice, despite showing bare skin.

Raven snorted inwardly. He went to a great many lengths to ensure his that his secret would be safe while he ate pasta. She wondered if he had this pre-prepared somewhere in a drawer or had recently made it while she had been out cold.

X tilted his head a few millimeters to the right. He cleared his throat, exaggeratedly and obnoxiously; with a roll of her eyes, she stepped aside and allowed him passage. Glancing at the perishables sitting out on the counter, she shook her head and left for the living room.

X was at the couch, feet on the coffee table and bowl in his hands. There was some weird show about a sponge on; the cartoon character's high-pitched laughter made her cringe.

"Why don't you join me, blue bird?" X asked, motioning to the open chair that she had sat on the first day. In such close proximity, she could almost hear the lilt in his natural voice before it was pushed through the silver rectangle and distorted.

"Blue bird?" she repeated dryly. "How creative."

"Everyone's a critic," he remarked, twisting the fork in the pasta.

For a moment, she watched him slowly maneuver the fork and noodles over the tiny machine to eat, sometimes under it; often bits and pieces would drop back into the bowl, but he seemed to be managing.

Raven shifted her gaze from his relaxed body to the TV, to the small dining table, then to the hole in the wall where the weapon was still embedded, and then her eyes rested on the deep gray carpet settled beneath the couch and coffee table.

There was a feeling of being underwhelmed. She had expected something much more…villain-like. She thought he'd have newspaper clippings of his deeds, blueprints scattered around; maybe there were books on how to be evil or how to properly rob a bank. Maybe he was the one writing it and spreading it to the underground. Granted, he had hidden his things, she was sure, but something told her what she saw was basically what she was getting — absolutely nothing.

At the very least, Raven thought he would have lived a luxurious lifestyle, one where his apartment was the whole top floor of the most prestigious building in Jump City. However, in actuality, he lived in a relatively quiet building with a modest look and medium-quality furniture. The clothes in his closet weren't particularly name-brand items. Neither did he have fancy watches or expensive statues or even a high tech refrigerator for pete's sake.

Nothing gave away the fact that he was stealing priceless items that were worth Atlas's weight in gold. Everything was so _normal_.

On the TV, the pink thing said something stupid and X laughed in response.

He was so…

"…Disappointing."

"You say something, sweetheart?"

"Is this all you do?" Raven asked, and then added as an afterthought, "Don't call me that."

X turned to her as if regarding her for a moment, and then looked back to the TV and continued eating.

"What," he said, "relax in my free time? Yeah."

"I thought your definition of relaxing would be bathing in money," she remarked.

"Stereotypes, babe."

"You don't even have money here," she continued, looking around at the underwhelming apartment once again.

X scoffed. "I'm not gonna leave stacks of Benjamin just chillin' in my apartment."

"That's not what I meant."

He chuckled then, as if there was a joke that only he could understand. "Well, what can I say? I'm a simple guy."

She raised a brow irritably, feeling the annoyance at the loss of her ability to see people's auras, to figure out their secrets with the purse of her lips and a little prodding from her chants, flare up again.

Leaning against the wall, her eyes wandered from object to object, pointedly ignoring X and his bowl of pasta as he slowly ate. The sight of his lips through the mask only served to push her to the edge as she was wracked with questions about what he looked like beneath the skull. Silently, her fingers tapped against her bare arm. She felt the restlessness return, the dying need to open a book or at least rip off his disguise.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

His voice broke her out of her thoughts. It took her a second for her ears to pull back the words and send it through her mind.

"Yes," she replied. "Why? Are you uncomfortable?" Even though his reason to be uncomfortable could, in no way, trump hers.

"Yeah, I am actually," he said cheekily. "It kind of sucks having a ghost around who wants to throw you in jail the moment she gets her body back. Can't even take off my mask in my own home." He sighed, shaking his head and slumping his shoulders. "Ah, well, _c'est la vie_."

"Take off the mask. I don't care."

"Tsk, tsk." He set his empty bowl on the table and leaned back into the couch, throwing his arms over the top of the couch and crossing his leg. Tapping his mask, he said, "Babe, I don't think you've got the payment to see what's under here. Unless…"

Raven didn't need her powers to feel his eyes roaming up and down her body. For one, there was the sleazy smirk on his face. X made a weird noise in the back of his throat — she was sure it was just to annoy her, and it worked. Raven narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. It wasn't as though she wasn't used to that kind of lecherous attention; after all, she flew around in a leotard. However, she always had her powers ready to defend herself. Now, things were different. She was in the worst case scenario, and Azareth only knew how much more painful and devastating reality was than the imagination.

She resisted shivering in disgust, feeling that it was a sign of weakness.

"Well, toots?" His mechanical voice made her narrow her eyes further. He licked his lips. "What do you say?"

"You're _disgusting_ ," Raven seethed. " _Despicable_." She had let her guard slip and a trickle of her emotion escaped through her teeth, but nothing happened in response. She had expected the television to implode or the table to fly at his smug face, but it was to her great irritation that the world continued revolving and X continued voicing his lecherous thoughts.

Raven turned away and headed back into the bedroom. Automatically, she paused and concentrated to slam the door with her powers. The only result was an increase in her anger when she remembered that she was currently worse than Casper.

Stopping at the foot of the bed, Raven glared at her body.

She couldn't live like this. If she had to go another day without the ability to send him to the eight dimension, she was going to lose her mind. The possibility of it being quite literal was high in her case. Maybe if she was lucky, Rage could take over and strangle him. If anyone could strangle another person while in ghost form, it would definitely have to be Rage.

Raven rubbed at her temples and took a seat on the floor beside the bed. Crossing her legs, she closed her eyes and straightened her back, inhaled slowly, exhaled slower — but it still felt like a vein was throbbing in her head. She never thought she'd hate meditating so much before.

* * *

 **A/N**

And, voila! Aquí lo tenéis. It's a bit shorter than the last one, sitting at 3,416 words, but I wanted to get this up today and left it where I left it. It probably works better this way, 'cause now I can start the next chapter fresh! Scene changes in the middle of chapters always bugged me for some reason, though I am coming to terms with using them! However, scene changes with days in between in the middle of chapters? My heart aches! I'll keep trying... I'm sure proper, awesome usage of the technique will dawn on me one day.

As always, I hope you have a lovely end of November, that your toes are warm, that your belly is full, and that your days are long and happy.

Please leave a review on your way out! I would greatly appreciate it. (:

Happy writing, loves!


	4. Secret Plans

**A/N**

FRIENDS! FRIENDS, ARE YOU STILL THERE?

'Tis I! Stardust! Alive and well!

I hope ya'll are still around and that you're all are still interested in what I've got to offer on this journey. I wanna thank ya'll so much for your patience. I'm back in the States and it's been rough trying to catch up — you know how it is, but finally! Finally! I am over this lump and I've got the next chapter here for you, and now we are back to monthly updates!

I'm not letting this go. I have so many fun scenes I want to share with you all!

I hope ya'll enjoy, review, and have a lovely day.

* * *

O4. Secret Plans

"The very essence of romance is uncertainty."

Oscar Wilde, _The Importance of Being Earnest and Other Plays_

He wished she could see his face, because right at that moment, he was scrunching his nose and curling his lips.

"I think you need a bath."

" _Excuse me_?"

Red wasn't too sure how bad the smell was, as his mask provided a decent enough barrier, but the very fact that he was able to sniff it out had to be a testament to the sweat and dirt and stink that clung to her body. An image of her in the contents of two trashcans that first night came back to him, and he remembered that, after she had attacked him, he hadn't tried to clean up the rest of her infections or even pat her down with a wipe.

He dropped from standing to balancing on his toes in a squatting position, eye level to the ghost version of the Titan. She was on the ground beside the bed, as she usually was, her legs crossed and her hands held out in her signature meditating posture that he had seen so much of in those past several days.

"Sorry to say it, babe," he snickered, "but your ass fucking _reeks_."

Her upper lip curved into a snarl. "Why do I not believe you?"

"Can you _not_ smell yourself?"

"No," she said irritably.

Ah, right, the Curse of Casper.

"Well, take my word for it, sweet cheeks," Red said. "If I take off this mask, swear to god, my eyes are gonna implode from the toxic aroma."

Raven was silent, but her glare had faltered at his words. He wondered if he would have been able to see a color change on her face if she was in her real body.

"When was the last time you showered?" he asked.

"The day of the fight," she answered, and then, as if his question had been an implication of something deeper, she added, "I shower every day."

He chuckled. In a coma or not, it had to be embarrassing to find out that your body smelled like fresh onions that had been shitted by a group of giraffes (giraffes because they had the smelliest section in the zoo).

"Good for you, toots, but your streak's been broken for about ten days."

"Stop with the pet names, X."

"Stop changing the subject, sunshine. You need a bath."

"I will end you," she seethed, "if you even so much as _touch_ one piece of _thread_ on my body."

Red leaned against his palm, propped up against his thigh. They stared at each other, both unmoving — well, in her case, she was glowering at him with all the effort of hell's fires behind her gaze. Being that she couldn't see his face, he accepted for lazily staring back, eyes roaming her tense face and set jaw before flickering to the bare legs on the bed, the current evil of his life.

He tsked. "I'm gonna have to change your nickname to _piece of shit_ soon, 'cause that's what you fucking smell like."

"I don't give a _fuck_."

"This is _my_ **fucking** apartment."

"I don't give a _**flying**_ fuck."

He felt his eye twitch, and without the usual ease of filtering his mouth, his thought slipped out — "This goddamn smelly-ass bitch…"

Her leg immediately shot at him with a deadly accuracy and speed that he was more than familiar with; it brought a rush of memory and adrenaline. He recalled the times blocking her swipes at his head, the times he had to roll to the side to avoid her giant slabs of cement, the aim of her quick wit. But despite the rush of excitement, Red did not budge from his position. It would've been too embarrassing, considering the situation, and though the hair on the back of his neck raised in alarm against the stillness of his body, he was unmoved.

He tsked again. She had aimed for his crotch.

"There has to be some kind of compromise," he said, reigning in the annoyance. "What if I drop you in a pool?"

"I'll die."

"You can have a life vest."

"No."

Red groaned, burying his face in one hand. "Babe, you're killing me. Literally. A piece of me dies with every poisoned breath."

"Tough," she snorted.

In the back of his throat, he combined a growl with another groan; distorted by the machine, it sounded like a yowl of static, but the strangeness of the noise was the least of his worries. He needed to find some sort of solution before he resorted to drastic measures, which he was sure would result in her stuffing his head with his body and then piercing it on a pike once her powers returned.

Well — maybe it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Besides, what if the smell forced management to come up to his apartment to investigate? Her foul scent was definitely only the tip of the iceberg, and he wasn't too keen on watching the ship sink.

He wondered if he could rub her down with hand sanitizer — and then he winced, thinking that, "rub her down," probably wasn't the best way to phrase it.

…Or was it?

No, no, mind out of gutter.

He sighed.

"Well?" she said abruptly.

Red tried not to groan aloud. "What?"

"Are you just going to sit there?"

"Jesus Christ," he grumbled. He pushed himself to his feet and glared at a wall he so desperately wanted to punch and left the room to collapse onto the couch. There were folded clothes on the floor beneath the coffee table, reminding him of the chores he had to do, but he instead pulled the laptop from the table and set it on his stomach, turning it on with the hopes of doing a little research about his next heist.

It was a lot harder to concentrate than he had thought as his mind, still buzzing about the encounter with Casper, refused to focus on the task at hand.

 _Maybe I can set off the sprinklers and just happen to have a bar of soap in hand…_ Ah, wait, that was the last apartment; this one was a little cheaper: no sprinklers.

He growled under his breath.

Drastic measures, Red thought to himself. She wasn't going to like this. She would likely shoot him out the window the moment her powers returned, but that was a problem for another day; he couldn't ignore the current, smelly predicament. (He tried not to think about the fact that he lived on the eight floor.)

Well, whatever the consequences, the ends justified the means, and once he decided on that, his mind had calmed and he returned to investigation.

Red turned on the TV for background noise, resuming the planning process of the heist, even if he actually didn't know if he was going to take up the job offer. There was still a weird nagging feeling, but… But, god, 8.4 billion? Who was this person? What exactly did he do to have this much money? And _why_? This was just a little trinket… What would he need this for? If there was ever a time he'd break his motto to dig up some info on the client, it would definitely be now, except that he had never involved himself with motives before. Why start now? It honestly sounded like an extra headache. However it sounded and however he felt, money was money.

Red closed the laptop and folded his arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. He'd find Golem later that night and give him his answer. That would be about four hours away, and right now, he had another problem: that smelly bitch in his room.

Red cleared his throat. If he was going to be honest, he could, basically, do whatever he wanted to her. Not that he wanted to (he sort of did), but in terms of giving her a bath, he _could_ fill up the tub and then dump her body in there; he didn't even have to take off her clothes — well, he probably should. Could demons catch colds? Did he want to find out?

It was too bad he didn't live in a house; he could've hosed her down by now and it would've been too easy.

He sighed again. The thought struck him that, ever since she had stepped into his life (and soul, weirdly enough), he had been sighing a lot more.

Sitting up, Red swung his feet over the edge of the couch, deciding that he would need to prepare for this suicide mission (a new first aid kit, some interesting trinkets and knickknacks to keep her occupied, offerings for when she tried to drag his soul to hell, maybe a sandwich because he was feeling a bit peckish). He was also thinking that a book about demons would be helpful; he doubted that there was a dummy's guide to half-demons, but with all the people in the world and all the time they had existed, there had to be a book that got half of it right. An expert demonologist would probably be better than a quick google search; he doubted the Titan would give him any information.

 _Ooh,_ maybe he'd find information for blackmail. _Then she'd_ _ **have**_ _to take a bath._

Red grinned under his mask, feeling the plan fall into place.

"Where are you going?" Raven was half in the hallway and half in the room, her arms folded and eyebrow raised suspiciously. He hadn't expected to see her for at least three hours, considering their rather harshly exchanged words. The boredom must've been really eating at her.

"Out," Red said, stretching his arms behind his back. "Do you wanna come with? Oh, wait."

She narrowed her eyes.

"What, not funny?" he asked, but she didn't reply. "Be back in a flash, toots."

And before she could say anything, he teleported out of the room.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief (and common sense), there was, indeed, an underground villain supermarket. It was a well-kept secret, surprisingly enough. Red did not steal from the black supermarket; not because he was scared of the repercussions but because he had suspicions that Wal-Mart definitely owned at least 50% of it.

Red slung the dark green backpack over his shoulder, pleased with the new purchase. He had spent too much time in the market, having been emotionally manipulated by all the new backpacks and gadgets (and sales on cheese). It was nothing short of five miracles that he only walked out with a new backpack and a new surveillance set (minus the knickknacks, some books, that new pen he wanted because it also recorded voice messages…).

He stepped into the elevator and it took him up to the ground level of the warehouse where he teleported away, his new treasures snug on his shoulders.

The sun was setting, evidence to the two hours he killed wandering through the aisles, two backpacks in his hands as he tried to decide which color he wanted more.

Teleporting his way back to his apartment, he thought about the plan; it was a rather simple plan, but with great consequences. Hopefully, his two hours in the supermarket would be worth it.

 _Oh, the book of demons, right._

That was the only thing he hadn't bought.

There was a little bookstore coming up in a few streets, a small one that was hidden in a corner; it was popular with the occultists, as the old woman only owned weird books from old times and ancient cultures he couldn't pronounce. He knew he could roll in quickly, grab a book or two, and drop a some bills on the counter before leaving. Hey, he wasn't heartless; Red liked supporting local businesses, as long as they weren't assholes.

Red was in and out of the bookstore faster than he had expected. It was closed for whatever reason; there was a sign on the door that he didn't read, but he picked the lock and poked around, thankful that she believed more in curses than security systems. When he had found what he needed, he dropped a twenty on the counter, locked the door, and teleported out onto a rooftop some buildings away.

He held his new book under a nearby light.

" _Demonolatry,_ " he read aloud.

The book was a deep navy; nothing was written on the cover, save for the title etched onto the spine. The pages were thick and yellowed, as if they had been passed down from cult leader to cult leader until finding their way into a corner of a dark bookstore. It looked creepy enough; surely it meant that it had answers. That, coupled with the fact that there, surprisingly, wasn't a lot of books about demons in the store (at least books that could be taken seriously).

"Whatever, it's good enough," he muttered.

Red only needed to familiarize himself with the topic, check to see if this book was as ridiculous as he feared. From there, he could figure out where to go, if he should buy another one. Maybe by then she'd be out of his hair and he wouldn't have to worry about it. Maybe she wouldn't threaten to send him to another dimension and he wouldn't have to search for blackmailing material.

Just as he was about to set his backpack down and put away his newfound toy, a metal pole sliced its way through the air behind him, hitting his legs and knocking the ground from beneath him. Red fell with a loud clatter; the book flew from his hands, dropping feet away.

"What the hell?" Red groaned, sitting up. The items in his backpack had jabbed into his back when he had landed awkwardly; he was grateful there was nothing in it made of glass.

A gloved hand picked up the book from the corner of his eye.

"Finished another heist, I see, Red-X."

Sometimes he wondered if he was on life's shit-list.

Red got to his feet, dusting off imaginary dirt off his shoulders.

"Heya, kid," Red said, eyeing the book in the hero's hands. "It's been a while, eh?"

"I must be pretty lucky," Robin said. "Kicking your ass would definitely make my day a lot better."

"Now is that something a respectable hero should be saying?"

"You stealing books now, X?"

Red's fingers twitched; he hoped Robin didn't notice. The Boy Blunder was nonchalantly holding onto the book, but he had yet to really look at it; if Red was lucky, an opportunity would open up where he could snatch it and teleport away. As much as he loved beating Robin at his own game, in his very own suit, this was definitely not the time.

"— X."

"Yes, sweetie pie? Daddy wasn't listening."

Robin frowned. Well, he frowned deeper, if that was possible as he was always scowling. He looked down at the book, turning it in his hands — _shit, shit, don't look at it, just leave it alone, kid._

"Didn't know you could read." Robin smirked then, as if he had said something extremely clever, but Red only rolled his eyes in response. "Now, what would a jewel thief want with a — "

 _Fuck._

Slowly, Robin looked up from the carefully etched words on the spine. " _Demonolatry_?"

Red couldn't see his eyes behind his eye mask, but he could feel the hardening of his gaze, the gears clicking into place.

 _ **Fuck.**_

"Alright, Chuckles, I paid for that book fair and square — "

"Where is she?" Robin's grip on the the item tightened; he raised the book in the air as to emphasize its existence, quite possibly the only clue they had.

There was a split-second pause where Red thought about how fucked up of a situation he was in and how it was going to end. If he wasn't at the top of Robin's shit list already, after this one stupid book, he was definitely bumped up to number one priority now.

"Where is she!" Robin pulled out his staff; there was a subtle trembling in his movements.

"Kid, it's my day off," Red snorted, putting his hands up in the sign of peace. "I just came out to do a little shopping, get a breath of fresh air, and now I'd like to go home and do a little light reading."

"Light reading?" Robin sneered, not taking the lie. "You read about _demons_ in your free time?"

"Why don't you buy me dinner first before asking all of these personal questions?"

Instead of a verbal answer, Red had received a swing of the staff toward his face; if he had moved his head a second later, it would've been knocked clean off his neck. The backpack suddenly felt heavier on his shoulders and back now that he was in the midst of a battle instead of a leisurely stroll. He was very much regretting those four books he impulsed-bought in the black supermarket.

Robin smirked at the movement and slowness, his staff pointing toward him. "We could do this the easy way, X," he said, "or the hard way."

Red shook his head. "It's like you heroes share the same script or something."

Red glanced at where the hero-boy had dropped the book to make the powerful swing. He needed to get his hands on it, and then he could disappear right off the building and be on his way — but how?

Robin rushed toward him, an impulsive, signature move that Red had been counting on. Red leapt in the air at the last second and used Robin as a trampoline to propel him forward toward the book, his hand outstretched. Just as his fingers were millimeters away, he felt a strong grip on his ankle yank him backward. He was sent him over the edge of the building with a forceful grunt, but his body instinctually righted itself and he was able to grab a hold of the ledge, feet scraping the brick wall.

"Where the hell is she!"

Red grunted, pushing himself up; Robin was definitely more aggressive than he normally was. His body was buzzing with the familiarity of the battle, but also at the subtle, underlying strangeness. Yes, his teammate was gone, but this was definitely more personal than what it was. Was Red overthinking it? He did have any concrete proof to believe this way; Boy Blunder didn't say anything out of the ordinary, but there was a taste, a tension in the air that hinted at an intimacy that others were not aware of.

Red tilted his head. "Were you fucking her?"

He must've hit some kind of sore spot, because Robin's face scrunched up into the most awful snarl he had ever seen; it was an expression definitely fit for a villain, yet it seemed natural on his face.

Robin rushed toward him, bringing his staff up. Red tensed and narrowed his eyes, timing the encounter to bring up his hands. He caught the staff mid-swing, startled by how much power was put behind it. With a firm grip, he pulled at the staff, forcing Robin to stumble forward; Red brought up a fierce kick to his chest. The combination of movements allowed him to steal the staff, and hopefully the upper hand with it.

"So, wait," Red started, "you weren't fucking — you just _wanted_ to."

"Shut the hell up!"

Robin brought his leg down and Red defended with the staff; it was times like these that he wished people could see his smug smirk. He had fought Robin enough to know how the movements of the staff were supposed to look, and despite never having used one seriously in his life, he was holding his own against the Boy Blunder, meeting him blow for blow. With every jab and swing, Red was corralling him away from the book, and it wasn't until Robin was where he wanted him to be that Boy Blunder realized what the goal had been.

Too excited that he was right on top of the book, Red had taken a too long glance and the staff had been snatched back by the owner, but he didn't let it kill the morale. Without taking his eyes off the angry hero, Red picked up the book.

They circled each other slowly, but now that Red had what he needed, there was no reason to stay and drag this on; however, whenever he tried to touch his belt where the teleportation device was located, Robin would bolt toward him with his staff, and Red would be forced to leap back or defend or jab back to put distance between them. They were too close; the stalling time of the device was fast, but the distance between them wasn't long enough.

"Why do you want the book so badly?" Robin asked accusingly.

"I take care of my things," Red said. "And I don't like people touching what's not theirs." He dusted his book off, though despite the nonchalance in his words, he did feel an irritation at seeing the rips on his new book.

"That's funny, seeing as how you _steal_."

"I told you, kid, I bought this with good money."

Red glanced around, keeping sure that Robin was always on the other side and in sight. Plan B was to run, jump into a darkened alleyway and/or get as much distance as possible between them and then teleport away, but Robin had to know that, so what was his countermove? What was the trick up his sleeve?

"I didn't think you dabbled in kidnappings, X," Robin said. "But it makes sense. Stealing goods isn't enough anymore, so now you're kidnapping people. You selling them on the black market?"

He was stalling. _Shit_.

Red reached for the device and there was the forward rush of the boy and the swing of the staff; they ended up switching sides as a result, and Red cursed inwardly. He'd just have to take his chances and run, hope that he was fast enough to put a good amount of distance between them.

"I swear to God, X, if I've found out that you sold Raven on the black market — "

"You know, maybe _I'm_ fucking her."

Red saw a flash of red anger on Robin's face, another expression that seemed right at home on him. He prepared for another attack, for an opportunity to run. The adrenaline was pumping strong through his blood, and it wasn't that everything slowed down but that he seemed to speed up: his feet stepping backward, ready to jump off, one arm coming up to protect his face, the other holding fast onto the book — and then a green blast exploded in front of him and another knocked him in the chest.

"Starfire, no!"

The shock wave and the force sent him off the building; he thought he had lost consciousness or sight as everything went black, but on an instinct he honed and trained, his fingers reached for the belt the moment his feet disconnected from ground. As he fell, his sight came back to him; he saw Robin swing himself over the edge, frustrated and growling, but Red's body was already crackling through reality. He disappeared before either reached the ground.

* * *

 **A/N**

What, what! And that's it!

Please drop a review, share some love, critiques (ahh, these action scenes are hard!), funny jokes, the likes — I'd greatly appreciate it.

Have a lovely week, friends, and I'll see ya'll around soon!


	5. Settlements into the Strange

**A/N**

Hey, peeps!

Thanks so much for the love last chapter! There were a few reviews I had replied to, but I don't know if ya'll received them because fanfiction was being janky for me — or maybe it was my computer that was being janky... Who knows!

Anyways, I'm glad ya'll liked the fight scene! It was actually super hard for me to write. I had to look up tips and advice before starting it, bahaha, but looks like they really did help.

Also, thanks for any suggestions and critiques! They definitely help. (Specific thanks to BlackHeart-FallenAngel; I replied to your review and suggestions but I don't know if you got it. In case you didn't, I agree and thank youse :D )

Okay, so this is the next chapter, and yes, there is a little bit of fluff, teehee.

Please enjoy and drop a review. I would greatly appreciate it; they make my day!

* * *

O5. Settlements into the Strange

"My soul will find yours."

Jude Deveraux, _A Knight in Shining Armor_

Raven had to honestly admit that the apartment was too quiet without him. Before being stuck in a stranger's apartment with no means to do anything, she hadn't realized how much she would miss noise, how much she would miss her friends: Beast Boy's kitchen antics, Cyborg's loud video games, Star's constant spitfire of questions, Robin sparring on the roof.

And now she was here in this strange room with these strange sights and sounds, her only means of social interaction a smart-mouthed criminal who was currently the single living person in the world that could see her. The shift of what and who she depended on was too out of place, too irresponsible. It wasn't her fault, honestly, but that didn't change anything of the situation.

She thought back to the interaction several hours ago: the audacity of his desire, the sheer courage (or sheer stupidity) of saying aloud that she needed a bath — coupled with the fact that she obviously couldn't bathe herself and that he would be the one who would have to do it — was more than infuriating. There had been six separate instances where Rage had threatened to force her way through, four times more than she had ever had in her life before these ten days spent with him.

But still, there she was, sitting on his floor and glancing at the clock on the wall above her comatose body, thinking that he had been gone for too long, that he should be back any time now, that she was bored, and annoyed, and alone. She found herself deeply missing her friends, her things, her powers, and — Azareth damn it all — his presence (but only a little bit, she reasoned, and only because she was suffocating mentally).

Raven sighed and massaged her forehead. There were too many things happening inside her brain, too much information and unnecessary thoughts. She wished she had her mirror to help sort them out.

After a while, meditating could only do so much. She was supposed to be trying to trigger the return of her memories (specific details like the faces of the culprits, the one thing she couldn't remember), yet all she had done was sit there and depress herself.

A sudden noise from the living room startled her from her thoughts. She opened her eyes, meeting the bookcases across the room, and paused, waiting to see if she would hear anything else.

Nothing happened.

"X?" she called out.

Something heavy dropped to the ground. Despite being disconnected from her body, she felt as though her heartbeat had increased. She pushed herself to her feet and slowly made her way to the door; when she peeked out into the hallway, she saw nothing.

"X, if that's you, answer me."

There wasn't a reply. X would be the only person that could hear her. Anyone else and she would just be an invisible being, worse than a ghost; at least their presence could be felt.

Raven exited the room and walked through the hall, her breathing shallow.

What should she do if it was an intruder? What _could_ she do? But wait — wouldn't this be the best case scenario? Someone finding her body and then informing the Titans? And then she remembered that there were worse people in the world than X.

Raven stepped into the kitchen; it was empty, nothing was on, nothing had been moved. She turned and walked down the hallway, her steps slowing when she got closer to the living room. She held her breath and forced confidence through her wariness.

There was no one at the front door. She turned her head: no one at the dining table — **BAM!**

X's foot slammed onto the coffee table.

"Azareth!" she exclaimed. In her fear, she had whipped toward him with her hands up in a fighting position, not that she really could've done anything considering her form. Raven glared harshly at him, but his head had barely moved to look at her.

"Oh, hey, babe," he said nonchalantly. "Didn't see 'ya there."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose as he slowly crossed his feet and turned on the TV.

"What the hell was all that noise?" she hissed. "And why didn't you answer me?"

He shrugged; there was an awkward motion to it. "I fell."

She was suddenly annoyed more with herself for wanting company than with his mannerisms and style of answering.

It was then that she noticed the Red-X belt lying on the ground, sitting atop a lump of black clothes — his costume. The outfit he was wearing now was composed of black sweats and a white shirt, but he still had his mask on.

 _Of course,_ she thought, rolling her eyes, but it registered that, even if his face was hidden, he was showing his true and real olive-bronze skin. She tucked the information away but raised a brow.

"You're a little reckless today," she commented.

"Don't have much choice," he said, but before she could really think about what that meant, she saw the dark green backpack on the floor beside him, one she hadn't seen him leave with earlier that day.

"Steal something new?" Raven asked, unable to hide the annoyance.

"No."

He found a show about a talking sponge and starfish and ceased his channel surfing. The characters' annoying voices only served to irritate her further.

"I thought you were just 'going out,'" she said.

"I was," he answered.

"I didn't think that 'going out' meant you'd be gone for six hours."

There was a pause where she abruptly realized the awful implications of her words and immediately regretted it, and in that moment he caught what she had _not_ been trying to say and turned his head to her. She didn't need her powers to feel the air buzzing with his smirk.

"Aw, baby, did you miss me?"

" _Don't_ call me that," she hissed.

She had been terribly wrong: rotting in the apartment by herself was definitely a better alternative than having him around.

He chuckled and she fumed, berating herself for her stupidity. The room was calling to her; maybe she could save some face if she just disappeared and meditated, got her thoughts together, but she sat down on the armchair anyway.

Raven felt her "body" fizz and crackle strangely as it allowed her to materialize enough to be seated; she would never get used to the weird sensation, she thought. At least, she hoped she would never have to.

The show was insipid and uninteresting; as a result, her thoughts started to wander.

Ten days was what X had said. So it had been ten days since Raven had arrived at his household in that state. When would things go back to normal? But if she could just at least have access to her powers, she'd be grateful enough.

She wished she had stayed on Azareth long enough to learn everything. Maybe Azar had known about this ability, this Plan C her body had for worst case scenarios. There was a stack of books in her room that she had taken from Azareth before she left, but she had never finished reading through them. She wished she had now. She wished —

 _Stop it._

Raven sighed internally, hoping that her face had remained blank. She didn't want X to know that she was anxious; the last thing she needed was giving him another piece of leverage.

She glanced at X; he was slouched on the couch at a strange angle, leaning a lot toward his right. The remote was in his left hand and his right arm was thrown over his waist — was he muttering something? She raised a brow, straining her ear to hear the mechanical voice of the mask, and it was then that she realized that he wasn't speaking but that he was breathing so heavily that the microphone was catching it.

"X," she said, but he didn't answer. She didn't know if he was even awake.

" _Is mayonnaise an instrument?"_

" _No, Patrick, mayonnaise is not an instrument. Horseradish is not an instrument either."_

It was one of the dumber things she had heard from that episode, and yet there was no response from X, not even a titter.

"X?" she said. "X. X. X!"

He abruptly jerked awake, sitting straight up, but just as fast as he had lurched forward, he instantaneously crumpled back onto the couch, groaning in anguish. His breathing was strained and he was avoiding his left side — something must've happened to his ribs.

"Did you get into a fight?" she asked, and when the thought really began to take form in her imagination, she felt a little buzzing of hope in her stomach.

Was it with her teammates? The Teen Titans? Did they, perhaps, know…?

He grunted, but didn't answer her. When she had thought he had blacked out again, he muttered something in Spanish (she tried not to let the surprise show on her face) and forced his whole body onto the couch, moaning quietly with every move.

"You must be in a lot of pain," she deadpanned. "Did you fall off a four story building?"

"Hey, we don't all have supernatural comas to numb the pain and fix everything up," he said in-between gnashing teeth. "The rest of us pitiful mortals just suffer silently."

"You could stand to be a little more silent."

There was a stab of guilt in her stomach. Maybe that was too insensitive. Sometimes she could go over the line — not that it should've mattered to her, since he was a criminal and on Robin's shit list, but then she heard the mechanized snicker and knew that no harm had been done.

X shifted slowly on the couch, looking for a more comfortable position for his banged-up body. His hand slipped under his shirt to rest on his stomach; she thought she saw a brief peek of blue and purple skin. Seeing it had almost made her hesitate, but she needed to know…

"One of your many enemies?" she asked.

"You could say that."

No pause, no uncertainty — she didn't know if that meant she could trust his words or doubt it further.

But… Who else could deal such damage to him than her friends?

It had to have been Robin with his swift moves and powerful kicks, always evenly matched with Red-X — or even Starfire with her flying advantage and green blasts.

X hissed when he had tried to readjust his torso too quickly; she watched him tense, the muscle in his neck and arms bulging as he froze mid-arch, waiting for the pain to subside before sinking back down into the couch with a small gasp.

There was the abrupt thought that villains — villains like him, without giant machines or super powers — were always crumpled on their couches after an encounter with the Teen Titans, or even with life in general.

A memory pushed its way to the forefront of her mind.

 _Dr. Light, cowering in a fetal position, shaking. His once clean and newly-designed suit was rumpled against his skin, as if it was the last layer of protection against what he had seen._

" _It was so dark."_

" _It was_ _ **so**_ _dark."_

" _So dark."_

Raven looked away.

It had not been her proudest moment.

She was instantly less excited about knowing whether or not it was her friends who had bruised him so deeply.

The sound of the sponge and starfish seemed to weave and bob beneath the sound of his tired, electronic breathing, though maybe it was because she was trying to ignore his pained breaths that she heard them so loudly.

He really was just some guy in a suit. Even though she had fallen off a building, she would never have the scars to show it.

She thought back to the few times the team had been really beaten up — broken arms, sprained ankles, concussions — but she remembered the laughter, the humorous sight of everyone limping, how she would use her powers to heal small cuts and fractures or even get everyone another plate of food because no one could move.

Criminals were criminals; she shouldn't — didn't — feel anything for them. They made their choices and they faced the consequences.

But there was something about the scene of X on the couch and the blankness of his walls that made her think about his late nights in, the TV blaring for no one.

Raven shook her head and pulled her legs up onto the chair. As far as she knew, there was no one. He could have a whole secret crew that she didn't know about; he probably hid the pictures before she woke up.

A particularly quick exhale brought her back to reality. Glancing at him, she told herself that she wasn't going to say anything, but that didn't keep her from stealing peeks.

Finally, against her better judgment, she said, "You're not breathing right."

"Gee, I wonder why."

Raven rolled her eyes. "You're breathing too shallowly. Breathe normally — prevents chest infections."

There was a pause where he seemed to mull it over, but then he slowly inhaled deeply. She watched the steady rise of his chest, but then at some point he grunted and everything caved in.

"…It hurts," he said.

"Really. I thought it would tickle."

X chuckled in response, but immediately afterwards he regretted it, judging by his quick curse.

"What happened?" Raven asked, pretending not to be too interested when in reality she could feel the thumping of her body in the next room.

She thought she felt him looking at her, though he hadn't shifted position. For a while, only the annoying voices of the characters could be heard in the background, and she thought that he wasn't going to answer and she would just have to assume yes, because why else wouldn't he answer?

"Heist gone wrong," he finally said.

If she was still part of her body, she would've felt her stomach drop.

"Oh," she said.

Raven silently comforted herself. It wasn't the end of the world. Surely they were looking for her. Surely they would find her. Surely X would…

What would he do? What was he supposed to do? What was he _trying_ to do?

Ten days and the worst he had given her was a remark about her foul scent.

Ten days and she was already extra bored without his aggravating presence.

Raven looked down at her hands.

"Falling in love with me already?" he asked softly. She could hear the smile in his voice and it made her want to drop the coffee table on his bruises.

"Actually, I think you've got Lima Syndrome."

One of his shoulders shrugged.

"Makes sense," X replied. "Your legs are hard to resist — ah, I meant your _lively_ personality."

She didn't know why she had felt bad for him moments before. _Just wait until I get my powers back…_

Raven turned to the TV, intent on ignoring him, but within seconds of the sponge's laughter, she didn't know what was worse: dead brain cells via boredom or via Spongebob.

"So," she began, "your heists _do_ go wrong."

"Not frequently, sweet cheeks."

"Piss off the owner of the store?" she asked. "Found out that he was actually armed to the teeth and you got what's been coming for you?"

"Nice theory, but it was a double-crossing actually."

Raven snorted, shaking her head at his naivety. "What else can you expect from low-life criminals?"

"To abide by a code of honor, at the very least," he said. "We're criminals, not anarchists, not that you would understand anything, hero. You'd probably sell your teammates out in a second, in the name of _justice_."

She stared at him incredulously. "That's ridiculous."

"No judgment," he said. "You've got your priorities; we've got ours."

"I wouldn't _sell_ out my friends," she said.

"Really," he said. "Even if it turns out one of them broke the law? Maybe stole something on a whim? Or went so far as to kill someone?"

"It wouldn't be a civilian. And it wouldn't be _selling out_."

"Does it matter?" he pressed.

"We'd turn ourselves in," she retorted. "We have our own code of honor."

"And what if you didn't?" he countered. "What if your great leader, Boy Blunder, killed someone in a fit of mad, uncontrollable rage, and yeah, sure the guy was a criminal, but let's say he died and it wasn't a provoked fight, and Boy Blunder didn't want to turn himself in."

She listened quietly, imagining it. Was she ashamed to say that it was a possible future? That there was a darkness in Robin, a darkness in people, in herself, that she couldn't deny? What if one day they couldn't control it? What if one day it took over?

"You'd help him hide the body, or would you turn him in?"

"I'd…"

"I know what I would do," X interrupted. "Well, not for _Boy Blunder_ , but you know what I mean."

"…I would turn him in."

The words didn't taste wrong on her tongue, neither did it taste empty.

"Of course you would."

"It's the right thing to do," she said simply.

"Sure."

Raven frowned, feeling her irritation spike at the way he was dominating the conversation.

"It wouldn't happen firstly," she continued. "And if it did, _Robin_ would turn _himself_ in. That's the type of person he is."

If he didn't, she _would_ turn him in — and she believed he'd be fine with it. He'd understand and nothing would change. They were superheroes; they upheld the law no matter what, even if she or Robin or any of them fell to the evil inside them — and she knew her friends would agree.

Raven looked away as if she was finished with the conversation, but she had already quickly figured out that he always had something to say. Though she waited, seconds passed when he didn't respond. Raven turned her head slightly; she couldn't tell if he was looking at her, but his head seemed to be angled away from the TV.

"He'd probably get off scotch-free anyways," X remarked, but something told her that he had wanted to say something else.

"There are bigger things than yourself." Raven rolled her eyes.

"That's not what Mother said," he laughed, and then there was the regretful groan.

She snorted. He was looking at her; this time, she cold definitely feel it. She had decided that she wasn't going to play his stupid game, but eventually the scene of Bikini Bottom was too boring, and she didn't know what else to do than to turn and stare at him irritably.

"I know you're looking at me."

"Huh? What?"

The vibrato in his voice told her that he was trying not to laugh.

"The world doesn't revolve around you, babe."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to get the day-old cup of orange juice to levitate off the table and fall on his head. It wasn't that she was angry, just that she thought it'd be funny, but the only thing that happened was X pulling himself up using the back of the couch.

"Come here," he said.

Her answer was immediate. "No."

With much effort and groaning, X managed to get himself up into a sitting position. He pulled the green backpack onto the space next to him on the couch, zipping it open to rummage inside. When he saw that she was still on the other chair, he paused, patting the empty cushion.

"Hurry it up," he said, but she stared at him warily and unmoved. "Would you unknot your panties and just come here?" — and before she could get a word in he added, "And don't misinterpret that."

Raven growled under her breath. She crossed her arms rebelliously, but after a short staring match with an unblinking skull and a curious bulge in the backpack, she reluctantly made her way over to his couch and sat down as far away as it allowed.

"Good job, blue bird."

"Shut up. And don't call me that."

"Is that any way to talk to someone who's got something new and interesting in your currently dull day?"

"I'm not interested in your nicked goods."

He sighed. "I bought this book fair and — "

"Congratulations on doing something you're _supposed_ to be doing."

Another staring match started; his masked was unmoving, but she held her own with her lips, thinly pressed into an unamused line, though she wanted to smirk for sneaking in her verbal uppercut.

Her eyes suddenly caught three dark brown dots at the bottom of his neck. Birthmarks?

"This is what I get for trying to do something nice for someone…" he sighed.

Her eyebrow twitched; she hadn't realized it was possible to do in spirit form, but of course X would be the one to trigger it.

"You're bored here," he said. "And before you make any snarky comments — yes, I am actually very observant."

There was a short inner debate where Raven struggled between an outward sneer and a roll of the eyes.

With much effort, he moved his legs and pressed his feet against the edge of the coffee table. X pulled out a large book from the backpack; as he settled it on his lap, using his thighs to prop it up, she saw that it was a book about Van Gogh's life and artwork.

"Hmm." It had accidentally slipped out of her throat.

He turned his head to her as if offended. "That better be a good _hmm_."

Raven glanced at him. "The cover," she started, pointing at its deep blues and yellows, "of course it would be _The Starry Night_."

He looked at it, but she could see he didn't get it.

"Yeah, it's a good piece," he said.

"Most famous piece," she corrected. "They're always putting it on things, t-shirts, tattoos, keychains…"

It was then that she suddenly realized how his head was turned to her, and then she heard how it sounded, what she was saying; to his ears it probably sounded as if she was rambling out something stupid, like that sponge and starfish on the TV. The mask was white and plastic, yet it seemed to be judging her, portraying the expression he must have underneath.

Her defenses rolled up; she felt as if she was sitting too straight, sitting too close, making too much commentary on a picture that no one really cared about.

"It's just…not my favorite," she finished.

X turned back to the cover, fingering it with his thumb. "Huh."

Now she felt dumb and ridiculous. What was the point in all of that? He probably only bought the book because it fit into his plan. Somehow, someway, this all fit into some master plan that —

"Which one's your favorite then?"

Her eyes refocused and jerked back to him. He was looking at the book, thumbing through the table of contents leisurely, maybe too leisurely for the situation.

"Innocent question," he said, as if knowing what she was thinking.

"… _Sorrow_ ," she replied, looking at his shoes as if they were the ones that had asked the question. "1882."

He flipped to the drawing in the book after finding the page number; the book gave dedicated an entire page to it (it deserved no less, she thought). She wondered if he was shocked that she had chosen that one, but he didn't say anything. Raven felt the despair of the woman in the picture curving into herself, wondering what he had been thinking when he had drawn it, what he had wanted this woman to think. Raven let the muffled roar of misery fill her up, as great art could only do, and was satisfied and empty at the same time.

X's thumb came into the picture. His nails were clean, she noted; she followed the lines of skin up to his wrist where it disappeared beneath a sleeve. He was looking intensely at the picture — at least, his head was tilted downward at the drawing.

Did it move him in that way too?

From _Sorrow_ , he flipped back to the first page and went through the book slowly; neither were interested in the lengthy paragraphs, but they paused long and often at the pictures. There was a strangely comfortable silence that had settled down in the room, even with the TV on in the background; she tried not to think about this.

After a while, X had stop flipping the pages. She heard his breathing finally steady: he had fallen asleep.

She looked at him, at the white skull face, at the red X. It used to be Robin beneath the mask; it was so long ago.

Being so close to him, her eyes caught the three small dots again. They made the shape of a tiny triangle near the bottom of his neck. She forgot people had birthmarks. She forgot criminals could have birthmarks..

She crossed her legs as his gave way; the book fell onto the floor and he woke up, groaning.

Raven glanced at X, settling into her meditating pose. "Breathe deeply," she reminded him.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, and with great, pained energy, he shifted his body into a strange position, one leg folded, the other dangling over the armrest. His head was near her thigh.

If she was in her actual body, she could reach over and undo his mask, slip it right off his face. If she was in her actual body, she could call for back-up, put him behind bars — feel his head against her bare skin while he slept.

Raven frowned. Her mind filled with unworded thoughts; they were just images, just feelings.

She closed her eyes, meditating on her memories until that flash of imagination trickled away into the dusty part of her mind where she hid her past, her dreams.

* * *

 **A/N**

So I read this thing about three or four times and then got tired and impatient. I hope there aren't any mistakes or weird transitions or OOC moments, haha.

I hope ya'll enjoyed!

See ya'll lovelies soon.


	6. Chest Infections

**A/N:**

Here it is, friends! Two months past the deadline, but for some reason this piece of trash was so hard to fill up. Nothing too action-y here, folks, but I expect some interesting events in the next chapter, so stick around (; tee hee.

Still, despite the lack of pow wow punches, I hope you still enjoy!

* * *

O6. Chest Infections

"Each time you happen to me all over again."

Edith Wharton, _The Age of Innocence_

Red dreamt of her laughter that night.

He had only heard it once when he happened to pass by the group outside a pizza place in his civilian clothing. One of them had done something stupid (he couldn't remember if it was the half-machine or the green one), and one thing led to another and then there were four whole pizzas on Boy Blunder's head. She had laughed softly behind a hand in the background; no one seemed to notice, or maybe they were used to hearing her laugh, but his ears had caught it so quickly, so clearly — like crystals, like bells, like chimes.

And it was in this dream that Red had heard it again. There was nothing around him, just a bright white light that had engulfed everything, and the only thing left was her laughter. When he turned to find her, the light flashed and the dream ended. He woke up staring at the coffee table and the black screen of the TV.

It was strange. Either he never had dreams or he only had sexually-charged ones — not of her, but of women in general, and that was because he was too busy or too tired to actually go out those days.

For a while, he merely lay awake, staring at the edge of the table, no specific thought in his mind, no one emotion. He let himself lay on the couch, ignoring the uncomfortable way the mask pressed into the side of his cheek, and listened to the faint sounds of her laugh, echoing from the deepest part of his memory.

He had forgotten about it, and why wouldn't he? It had been an interesting, quick event, but nothing worth placing on a pedestal or even remembering — and yet he did remember.

Ah, sentiment — he forgot he still had those… But she really did have such a lovely laugh.

He smiled, hearing it ring in his ear.

" _Breathe deeply. Prevents chest infections."_

With a painful inhale, he closed his eyes and fell into a light sleep on the exhale. This time, he dreamt of nothing, and he welcomed the familiarity of it.

The next time he woke up, it wasn't as pretty. He had sat up too fast, forgetting about the injuries he had sustained; his body quickly reminded him with sharp, cracking pressures in places he hadn't known he could break.

For a while, he could only lay there, forcing himself to breathe the way she wanted him to. Each mouthful went down with a swear and left with another dark curse. He shifted his head to look around the room, but the angle was limited. When he finally gathered the courage to deal with the pain, he forced himself into a sitting position and swallowed any grunts and cursing that bubbled upward from his stomach.

Raven wasn't in the room, as far as he could tell. He supposed she was in the bedroom, meditating. The self-timer on the TV must have turned it off; the room was silent now, something he didn't like. He found the remote underneath the coffee table and switched the screen back on; he didn't recognize the show, but all he wanted was the background noise. The book he had stolen was on the table, and the backpack lay limp beside the couch, the contents having spilled out of it.

Red pushed himself to his feet and slowly stretched — "No, no, bad idea," he groaned.

With shaky steps, he walked toward the kitchen, using any wall or furniture to help him. Once inside, Red grabbed the ice pack from the freezer and took out a bottle of painkillers from the cabinets, wondering if taking eight pills at once was out of the question.

 _Meh, it's an emergency,_ he thought to himself.

With the icepack against his swollen ribcage and the medicine in his stomach, he opened the fridge to look for a quick bite. If he was lucky, there would be a sandwich, just magically — oh, there really was one.

Red lifted up the mask and took a bite out of a corner: peanut butter and jelly. He didn't even know he _had_ peanut butter and jelly. His body was craving energy to help with the healing process, and he ate the rest of it in three bites.

Leaving the kitchen, he headed toward his room and caught the faint odor of the one creature in that entire complex that had yet to take a bath. He made a noise of disgust at the back of his throat, hoping that he wouldn't throw up what he just devoured.

"Raven, babe, we gotta talk about this odor problem," he said loudly, letting her know with the volume of his voice that he was about to enter the room.

And then Bram Stoker's _Dracula_ flew at his head.

It took everything in him to move out of the way instead of duck. Red stared incredulously at the book that lay limp on the floor, and then looked at the ghost that had thrown it: a smirking Raven.

"You got your powers back?" he asked, suddenly wondering how he would make up for all his annoyances, because the last thing he wanted was for her to throw him out his building.

She narrowed her eyes, then, at her still comatose body. "Not all of them," she said honestly, but then she met his gaze as she levitated the _Dracula_ book and placed it back in the shelf. "But enough."

"That's great," he exclaimed in the most faked happy voice he could. "Should I never sleep now?"

Raven rolled her eyes. "I'm not petty like you," she retorted.

"Dracula begs to differ."

There was an upward lift at the corner of her mouth and an evil gleam in her eye that was aimed right at him.

It was then that everything began clicking into place: the TV, the books, the _sandwich_. He never made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Red cleared his throat. "Uh, so, I'm guessing you were the one to…?"

"It was nothing..." she muttered.

She brushed a strand of her behind her ear in her ghost form, a move that had him curiously confused. The Van Gogh book abruptly floated up shakily and righted itself in between two dictionaries; a small and thin book with a red cover slowly slid out of its place, but then her powers seemed to waver. It fell onto the floor.

He stepped forward to pick up the book, ignoring the pulsing pain; as he touched the cover, he remembered the first time he had seen it in a window and how excited he was to find it. He flipped to the first page and laid it out on the floor for her.

She bent down beside him to look at the starting chapter, glancing at him and then to her body.

"It was my thanks," she mumbled.

He was taken back.

What exactly was this? No, no, it wasn't interesting enough to warrant an analysis or hypothesis or even a confused face.

What he knew for sure was that he was hating the uncomfortable "I'm-your-enemy-but-we-still-did-nice-things-for-each-other" atmosphere, so he did the only thing he knew how: Red snorted rudely, and unashamedly remarked, "Wow, I save your life after you fall off a building and you give me a sandwich as gratitude?"

The ceiling light abruptly shattered.

He licked his lips. "So, is this a bad time to bring up the bathing thing?"

" _Out_."

With great pains, he used the bookshelf to help pull himself up to a standing position, leaning against it a split second longer to give his body a break. When he left the room, he called, "You can't read anything in the dark, sweet cheeks," and the door slammed behind him in response.

Red entered the kitchen, looking for something else to snack on. As he opened the fridge, he smiled to himself; it was getting easier and easier to read her, to be able to steer the conversation away from uncomfortable topics — and then the next thought hit: was that something he should be pleased about?

What would she do if she had full access to her powers?

Of course, she would slam him into a wall out of irritation the first chance she got, but what about her friends? Would she call her teammates over? Had they _bonded_?

He thought back to the night before, looking at Van Gogh's paintings and drawings in a relaxed silence — then his head near her thigh and her laughter in his mind.

But another side of him warned that he needed to get rid of every pen and paper in the vicinity; he listened to that side as best he could, considering he couldn't enter his room just yet.

Red gingerly lay back down on the couch, staring at the ceiling; the TV played softly in the background. He closed his eyes, shifting the mask to a more comfortable placement on his face; he suddenly wished he didn't have to always wear it, that she wasn't waiting to identify him, to etch his face into her mind to later translate to her boss.

It'd be easier if they were on the same side.

With that thought lingering, he fell asleep.

* * *

He woke up again sooner than he thought he would, his stomach growling and the TV blaring old 80's songs in the corner. The clock on the wall said it was only forty minutes later.

Groggily, he turned his head: Raven was sitting on the recliner, out of the room in the record time. She was leaning forward at the coffee table; the red book was spread open on the glass. Every minute or so, the book would glow and a page would flip, and her lips would do a strange tilt upwards, one he had never seen before, and then it would disappear into her focusing.

She looked at him when she noticed that he was awake.

Red rolled his head back to its original position of staring up at the ceiling.

"Morning, sunshine," he greeted, wondering if she could hear his voice cracking through the machine. "Have you thought about the bath?"

Raven rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you fix the lights in your room," she said.

He shifted his head again, but this time to stare at her incredulously. He had only said it to tease her, and although he really wanted her to bathe her smelly body, he never thought she would actually go for it without force on his end. With that hypothesis in mind, he had already made several different plans of how to dump her body into the tub; the books in the backpack were specifically bought to appease her anger before, during, and afterwards — and yet she had conceded without their usage.

Well, she said _maybe_ , and he knew better than to trust a Titan's words, but…

"Are you serious?"

She didn't look at him. A page of the book turned.

"Go fix it," she said simply, and as if that was all he needed, he pushed himself up and made his way to the kitchen cabinet where he kept the extra bulbs.

In the bedroom, he turned on the desk lamp and shuffled a chair to the middle, right beneath the ceiling light. He first had to remove the glass encasing it, careful not to cut himself with the cracked bulb, but after that, it was smooth sailing. She hadn't bothered to clean up the broken glass that littered the floor — _figures_ , he thought to himself, but that was also an easy fix.

As he put in the new bulb, he noticed his curtains: they were slightly shifted two inches away from his desk.

"Huh." He scratched his neck.

The last time he had touched his curtains was when Demon Raven attacked him; he had pulled them to cover the window and hide more clues of his location. It was his habit to pull them as close as possible to his desk, and there was always an internal nudge to fix them if they weren't.

So this could only mean that they had been pulled back after that event.

Red glanced to the doorway.

After he had screwed in the new bulb, he carefully got off the chair and returned it to his desk. He quickly looked around — no pen, no paper, no letter. Did she hide the materials she used? Didn't he used to have a pen sitting on his bookshelf, or did he move that to the kitchen?

This was a lot more stressful now that she had her powers back.

"Are you done yet?"

Red looked up; Raven was at the door. He forced himself to smoothly pull a book from the shelf to keep suspicion from collecting.

"Yup," he replied, and then jutted a finger at the body. "Scrub-a-dub-dub time?"

"You're not coming in with me," she said, folding her arms.

"Well, damn," he sighed dramatically. "Guess I'll just have to sit outside the door and jack off."

She made a face and a disgusted noise, to which he proudly chuckled.

Raven turned to her comatose body that was already glowing and levitating; she murmured an incantation several times under her breath, and with what seemed like great strain on her spirit or soul, the body rose higher, floating for the door. He whistled, impressed; but then he saw the expression on her face.

Immediately afterward, her powers faltered and her body began to weave in the air dangerously.

Instinctively, he dropped the book and stepped forward, catching her body; once her powers dissipated and he was forced to take hold of all her weight, he regretted it, feeling the pressure on his ribs.

"Put me down!" Raven said quickly. He had never heard her so distraught before, used to her biting sarcasm and monotonous expressions, but he could understand the panic. He made a lot of dick jokes and sex jokes; it wasn't an offense that she was nervous that he was touching her — well, not much of an offense anyway. He was still a little bit offended; who wouldn't be?

"Honest, I'm a decent guy," he told her as he made his way toward the bathroom.

"X, just — "

"Hey, hey, relax," he urged, shaking his head. "I'm a thief, remember? J _ust_ a thief. Anyways, my ribs are still cracked and you're mad heavy, so…"

She hesitated, but then stepped aside then, saying nothing more. Still, that didn't mean that she wasn't attentively watching his movements as he placed the body in the tub.

"Though, I could steal a kiss…"

" _X_ — "

Red laughed. "It was a joke."

She booted him out of the bathroom with a flying shower head; the door slammed and clicked behind him.

"Alright, I'll just wait out here," he said. "You do your thing?"

He heard the shower turn on and then Raven's ghost head appeared through the door, staring down at where he had settled on the floor, leaning against the wood for support.

"You're just going to sit out here?" she asked, irritated.

He smirked, hoping she could feel it. "Yeah, you know," he said, "in case you need help or something."

"I won't." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I said _in case_ , toots."

" _Don't_ call me that," she snapped. "I can levitate knives now — don't tempt me."

Raven disappeared back into the bathroom, leaving Red to rest beside the door. Now that the action was over, he could feel the pulsing in his side, not as bad as before; he could probably thank the pills for that, but carrying her wasn't the best idea.

Everything was worth it in hind sight, though. She had really smooth and soft skin.

He snickered noiselessly.

The water turned off; the tub was probably full. He heard gentle splashes and the toilet seat going down, maybe somewhere for her to sit.

"Just leave your uniform on the floor," he said. "I'll wash it, or, you know, throw the shit away."

"Why?"

"It stinks," he said with a confused frown; was it not obvious? Did they not wash their uniforms? "And anyways, it's full of holes. Don't you have, like, a million pairs of them in your closet?"

There was silence; he thought she hadn't heard him, but then she stuck her glaring head out of the wall and sternly said, " _Don't_ even _think_ about it."

He smiled innocently. "Think of what? It was just a harmless observation."

"…Right…" She disappeared back into the bathroom; the splashing started up again.

Red slipped a finger under the mask to scratch his cheek..

He wasn't going to bring up the fact that she very likely knew where he was keeping her, and if she didn't, she could easily figure it out with a few google searches.

Ah, yes, google searches — his laptop.

He sighed. The theory of the ambush was seeming likelier and likelier with every passing second.

Was this something that could be negotiated?

Red snorted. Of course not. Now he was started to see the consequences of his impulses.

 _Dammit_.

And then he was back to the beginning, back to the very start of what brought all of this on: why did he save her? Was he just going to nurse the bird back to health and then let her fly free? With all of this vital information about him and his hideout? The apartment wasn't where he really hid his things, but if they found out about this place, it wouldn't be hard for them to put the pieces to together and find his "bat cave," so to speak.

She would be loyal to her teammates. She'd be loyal to Boy Wonder.

"I need clothes," she suddenly called from inside the bathroom, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Hold up." Using the doorknob of the bathroom, he pulled himself to a standing position.

"Don't come in, idiot," she hissed.

"Chill out — I've got some fucked up ribs, remember?"

She scoffed in response.

Entering his room, he scrunched his nose; the smell was faint, but still there. In his closet was a bottle of Febreeze, which he sprayed generously around the area before looking for something that she could wear.

Though the situation was annoying, he had to admit that it was still slightly humorous.

"First time I'm giving clothes to a woman that hasn't slept with me," he mused loudly, heading back to the bathroom.

"Hardy har har," she deadpanned, appearing through the door. She looked tired and frustrated.

He frowned. There were consequences to his actions, and hers. The clothes in his hands levitated out of his grasp.

"Didn't you _just_ get your powers back?" he asked. "You sure you should be using them like that?"

"It's fine," she said. "Turn around."

"Tsk. We need trust if we're gonna make this relationship work, babe."

"Turn _the fuck_ around."

He hummed in entertainment but did as he was told. Behind him, the door clicked open and closed.

"You know I can help," he said, though she didn't take the bait.

Finally, the door opened and her body levitated out; Red immediately took her into his arms and brought her back to the bed, ignoring the ghost's annoyed sighs and the aching complaints of his torso.

He made a show of smelling her. "Much better, babe."

"I _will_ end you."

He chuckled. Her body took its place inches above his bed, silently levitating in a coma. The two stood staring at her, the same question on their minds; but that would be the only thing in common. The hundreds of worries and problems and anxieties that were knocking against his head were surely similar, yet completely different, than the ones causing a ruckus in hers.

Red leaned against the shelf, feeling tired but not wanting to show it in case she took advantage of his state.

"It shouldn't be too long," Raven announced suddenly. "I should wake up soon."

That was…good?

How was this going to work again? Blindfold her and then release her? Knock her out and then drop her off at the Tower? Make her write an immunity card for him?

 _Think, Red, think._

But there were too many things buzzing in his head: her powers, his decisions, the Titans, the coma, the awakening, the future, Golem and his mysterious client –– ah, right, he was supposed to have given Golem an answer a day or two ago, but that damn Boy Blunder had messed everything up. His work was cut out for him, it seemed.

"You still haven't told me," she said, interrupting his inner monologue.

"Hmm?"

"What exactly do you think will happen after all of this?"

He shrugged. "Everlasting friendships, coffee dates, book swaps, immunity…" He tapped the chin of his mask. "You know, the works."

Her brows furrowed intensely, but it wasn't out of spite or irritation. From the corner of his eye, he saw her turn her head to stare at her body, and then her focus seemed to disappear inside her thoughts.

"Maybe I'm just a good Samaritan," he announced.

She scoffed. "Doubt it."

He pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. "My darling, you wound me."

"Shut up." But she didn't look amused. She wanted an answer, one that he still didn't have. If he was being honest, she could stay in a coma for the next forty days with him and he still wouldn't have anything to give to her.

Turning back to her body, he noticed that she had several purple strands stubbornly stuck to her face. He stepped forward without thought and picked them out; she let him do it without any repercussions.

"Did you like the book?" he asked her.

Raven folded her arms. "It's weird."

He nodded. "That it is. Just keep reading; it gets weirder. Wait 'til the aliens come."

She looked like there was something more she wanted to say — a comment, a question, a phrase, to bring them back to the elephant in the room, the hovering cloud of taboo topics that neither seemed to want to address properly. Or maybe she did but he was just too good at avoiding them.

It had only been a little less than two weeks; he still had time before he truly needed to have a definite answer and course of action.

Red walked by her, going for his uniform on the floor in the corner of the living room. He glanced at the clock, wondering if he could get in another nap or another session of annoying Raven before heading off, but with his body not at 100%, he figured he should go sooner rather than later.

Red scooped up his belongings, the clothes and belt and green backpack. He took out the books and kept the new tech and knickknacks.

"X," Raven called from the entrance. She was leaning against the wall, arms still folded. In the light, she looked more transparent than usual, as if she would dissipate into smoke with the lightest breath. "You wouldn't deliver a letter, would you."

Red looked at her; there was an image that flashed in his mind, lasting less than a second: a blue bird in a black cage.

He strapped on the belt and said, "I'll see you later, birdie," thinking he heard her sigh before teleporting away.

* * *

 **A/N:**

So, yeah, no pow wow action, but I hope you liked it all the same. I'm trying to take their relationship slow, but I love them in love, haha, so it's super hard to do.

Leave a review if you're able, friends.

We shall meet again! (:


	7. Hearts in the Shadows

**A/N:**

You guys are absolutely amazing for sticking with me and being so patient. I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm sure you know how life and school and jobs go!

As an apology and as a thanks, I've written two chapter for this update! I finished editing and revising this one, and I really feel like I should read it a couple of times more, but I'm about to head off to work and my head is so tired of reading this damn thing! Action scenes are hard, guys, so hard...

And anyways, I'm super excited to move this story along.

On that note, I would greatly appreciate reviews — are you still there?!

Comments and critiques would be great, too; I hope I wrote this well. A lot happens, and I didn't want drama drama drama, but some things needed to happen, and one thing led to another and it ended up being hella long and...well...ahaha...

I hope you enjoy. I'll post the next chapter in the next couple of days once I get off work and revise it, so expect it! Three days max!

Thanks everyone! I hope you're still enjoying it and still sticking around!

* * *

O7. Hearts in the Shadows

"God I want you  
in some primal way, wild way  
animals want each other.  
Untamed and full of teeth."

Clementine von Radics, _Want_

Before he had teleported off his apartment building, Red had downed another six pain killers. If it was up to Red, he would wait another week before doing the heist. Unfortunately, all clients had a time constraint, and he was supposed to have given an answer two days ago.

The ache was still there, a dull reminder in his side that he had more bad ideas than good, but he doubted he could ask for an extension. One needed to be professional after all.

As he fell into the routine of traveling through shadows, rushing and appearing beside bird nests and rooftop cats, he listened to the after hours of the city. By this time, everything had died down; most people had already returned to their homes, their curtains pulled with only the flickering light of the forgotten TV a sign that anyone had been awake. A few stragglers hung about in darkened alleyways, but no one ever looked up to see Red shooting above them along his route, their desires hidden down in bottles.

Red's mind took to wandering. From what he read, the jewel wasn't a prized possession, despite its ridiculous name, "The Heart of the Shadows." Even its value was low, and if that wasn't enough of a clue, its location in a mid-tier museum with less than state-of-the-art security and blueprints definitely were. Clearly, it wasn't important, not worth what the client was offering, but Red made it a point not to ask questions. He was a thief, not a sociopath; he had morals and a conscience, and the last thing he needed was that annoying voice in his head to kick in and make him question his decisions.

He knew what he needed to know to get the job done; in and out of museums, mansions, business transactions. Not even names were disclosed, and that was how it should be.

He hissed suddenly, feeling his ribs throb; he had made a routine move in how his body landed on this particular roof with a large ventilation system, but being that he was not completely 100%, his ribs clenched in protest. Red paused on the roof, making fists to keep from pounding his ribs; if only throwing tantrums would make everything better.

When the pain subsided, he continued on his way, throwing a quick prayer to whatever was out there that the pills would soon kick in.

Golem was already at the meeting point, sitting in the center of the rooftop. He was chewing on a banana peel; beside him was a trash bag, probably filled with a variety of rotting fruit skins taken from a dumpster. Red tried not to stand too close for fear of vomiting; unfortunately, Golem also had particularly pungent breath.

"Ah, my good friend, X," Golem greeted.

"Yo." Red didn't bother correcting him. "Guess it's my turn to apologize for being late."

"Oh, no, _never_ , X," Golem said dramatically, swallowing the last pieces of his meal. "I wasn't waiting long. And besides, I was having a good dinner." He raised his bag and Red nodded quickly, hoping that Golem wouldn't try and show off his dinner.

"Anyways," Red continued, "there was a bit of a mix up earlier. I couldn't make the date."

"No harm done," Golem responded. "It is imperative, however, that you get the job done today."

"Right," Red said. "I've already scoped out the area."

"Oh?" Golem tilted his head; the grin grew wider.

"Yes…" Red responded, feeling that there was something he wasn't being told. "Takker's Museum, Heart of the Shadows."

"Oh, _that_."

Behind the mask, Red frowned. He wasn't much for surprises. It was imperative, as a thief, that he knew every twist and turn of the plot, every guard's schedule, their bathroom breaks and phone calls; surprises meant failed plans, loss profits, Teen Titans, _sprained ribs_ …

"I understand you didn't make our earlier date, and thus you do not know, but the Heart at Takker's Museum is not the one he wants."

"What do you mean? There's another one?"

"Yes, the _real_ one. It's in a cavern to the south of here." Golem rose to his feet, dusting off his knees. "Come, X, I'll take you." Golem paused then, staring pointedly at him. "Do try to keep up, yes…?"

There was a flitter in Red's stomach at his words. Did he know about his ribs?

Golem crawled off the side of the building; Red followed him, ignoring the growing pain. They maneuvered without speaking through the darkness, edging toward the side of the city he rarely visited.

Red wondered why he hadn't stumbled on the fact that there were two jewels while he was researching. It wasn't as if he only used google; there were several sites only criminals were privy to, protected and funded by an anonymous group, and one would think that of all his resources, of all the historical data, there would be _something somewhere_ that talked of a second jewel, of a real jewel, of a _damn cavern_.

His stomach did a weird flip in time to an inner alarm ringing somewhere in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

True to his word, Golem had moved rather quickly; it wasn't difficult to keep up, but every time Red shifted and jumped and _breathed_ , his ribs cried a small complaint.

They passed through the south side of the city, the poorer part of town; it was the main reason he avoided it: there was nothing to steal. In fact, most people did the stealing there, and it was usually from each other. There were a few stragglers on the streets, even at that time of night; they were probably plotting something illegal.

Eventually, the south side disappeared behind them. On the outskirts of town, Golem suddenly took a sharp left, passing through some sparse woods, dipping down a hill, and then he skidded to a stop.

A large cavern came into view as he neared Golem, sitting at the base of another hill. There was something eerie about it. He couldn't quite put his finger on any particular reason; maybe it was the way the crescent moon was just over the trees, or maybe it was because he was with Golem, whose yellow-teethed smile still glowed ominously in the dark. And maybe it was nothing at all, and he just felt tired and wanted to go home, poke the bear, and then go to sleep.

Red took a few steps forward; the giant mouth of the cave loomed over him as though it had opened wide in preparation to devour him. "Where are we?" he asked.

Beneath his suit, his skin prickled, revolting against the atmosphere the cave breathed out. He wondered if it was an old instinct honed by ancestors, passed down from generation to generation — not his ancestors, but the human race's. Was this a warning? A self-preservation tactic? Or just ghost story goosebumps?

Red frowned. What was inside the cave?

"Golem," he called when his companion didn't answer. When Red turned, he saw Golem standing several feet away on a boulder, his head high in the air, as high as his curved spine and shoulders allowed. It looked as if he was smelling something; his eyes were closed to the view.

"It's in there," Golem said. "I can smell it."

"What is? The jewel?"

Golem smiled. "Yes, the Heart of the Shadows."

Red's frown deepened. For some reason, that didn't sit well with him, though he should have been pleased that he didn't have to go through the tediousness of museum security — but if not the hum and drum of motion detectors, of security cameras and pressure sensors, then what would he face in there?

He asked the thought just as it materialized in his mind: "Didn't two people die?"

Golem didn't bother hiding the snicker. "Three, X," he replied. "Three have died."

Red stretched out his arm. "Great," he muttered.

"I said to be careful, X."

Red stepped into the mouth of the cave; he stood there, staring into the darkness. He almost expected movement in the shadows, or a strange voice whispering to him his secrets, but all was silent and still. When he turned around, Golem had already disappeared, probably gone off to another client or eat banana peels out of dumpsters.

He didn't like surprises on the best of days. Red touched his side. It was tender; the pills were doing its job, but he didn't know how long until everything would come flooding back.

8.4 billion was a lot of money, though, and he had yet to turn down an already accepted job.

Red ventured forward into the darkness; it wasn't long before the cavern swallowed him in its deep embrace. As he walked, the light from the entrance grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared altogether. Red shifted the backpack on his shoulders, He held up his hands; the red X's on his palms began to glow, providing dim lighting. He could barely see a foot in front of him. Of all the neat gadgets and gizmos he got to play with, how was it that the suit didn't come with a flashlight? Or, better yet, why hadn't he simply brought his own? There was nothing in the backpack that would help him — granted, he hadn't known he'd have to do business in a creepy cavern.

"It's thoughts like these that haunt me at night," he mumbled to himself, trying to resist the goosebumps. Though he had spoken softly, the crackled mumble still reverberated against the cave walls, thrown back at him as warped and distorted as he had sent it out.

There was a damp and moldy smell in the air; beneath it lay a soft rotting scent. It wasn't unbearable, but it belied a deeper problem: what was the source?

The cave walls gradually narrowed the further he walked, and it was starting to get to him that there was no sign of life or the jewel.

Where did this cave lead to? Maybe a better question was: _to what_?

Right before his imagination could get the best of him, an echo touched him from behind. Red turned swiftly, holding his hands up, frustrated that he had to choose between light or fists. He waited; nothing happened. Hesitantly, Red turned back around, wondering about demons and if they were behind him, waiting for the chance when he let his guard drop.

He wondered when he had picked up such an interest in them — that vicious four-eyed one surely had something to do with it.

He grinned, and then quickly wiped it off his face.

 _Dangerous territory, Red,_ he warned himself. She was interesting. _Let's just leave it at that._

Red whipped around; he had heard the noise again. Just as before, nothing happened. Turning back to the path, Red shook his head; the cavern was getting to him, he told himself, the complete darkness. That, and the thought of demons, something he had never needed to worry about before, was gnawing at the edges of his mind those days. Usually it was just about ways to bother Raven, but alone in the cave with obscurities around him, he couldn't help but think of other worldly creatures. Maybe she was at fault for that too.

 _Wait, she? Too?_

 _Eyes on the prize, man._

Abruptly, up ahead, he saw an orange glow flickering against the rocky walls. With quick flicks of his wrists, the red X's on his hands turned off. Red paused, confused and skeptical and feeling the growth of a burning irritation gathering into a rage.

Why were there lights in a cavern? Was it going to lead him to a jewel, or something else?

Inwardly he growled; if there were others at the lights, he didn't want to alert them of his presence, no matter how frustrated he was. Golem was keeping secrets. He _had_ to be keeping secrets.

As he got closer, he heard soft breathing.

 _Three people have already died_ , he heard in his head. _Three people_.

 _What the fuck is going on?_

Was this all for a jewel? Was there even a jewel? Was there even a _client_? Or did Golem just send him in as a sacrifice for a cult? Maybe that was why those three travelers died; maybe they were sacrifices, too.

Everything was starting to make him nervous, activating his flight or fight response; the adrenaline was pulsing and he didn't know what to do with it. His imagination started to run through all the possible scenarios of what this could be: a double crossing, a demonic cult ritual, a lost teenage idiot making camp inside a cave.

As Red neared the entrance, he pressed against the wall and peered around the corner. The end of the tunnel led into a large cavern room; there were no other entrances and exits. Mounted on the walls were torches, the source of the orange glow. There was something strange about them; the fire seemed more intense, more colorful than what it normally was in reality. It could've been just the dimness of the cavern that changed his perspective, but Red didn't have time to dwell on it; movement from the center of the room caught his eyes.

There was a curse word ready to fly from his mouth, but he caught it in his throat and swallowed it. His eyes widened at the four creatures standing in the center hunched over as if asleep. Their large black wings drooped and dragged against the ground; they had large heads due to an elongated jaw, like that of an alligator's. Their teeth looked yellow and brown in the lighting, and they were unable to fully fit inside their huge maw; their mouth was left slightly ajar to compensate. They had to be at least eight feet tall.

The adrenaline gave way to a cold feeling, a numbness.

Demons?

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_

Demons — he swallowed. What else could they be? Did Jump City have underground chimera experiments that they kept _hush-hush_? Which was worse?

At their horned feet were what looked to be human remains, half eaten, half forgotten — that explained the smell. He counted four bodies (he used that term loosely); it looked like another bystander and gotten caught in a "wrong place, wrong time" scenario.

 _Holy f… What the_ ** _actual_** _fuck_.

Red thought suddenly that a half-demon Titan would be really useful in his current predicament. He wondered if the spirit-soul-connection thing would relay her his position up shit creek.

He could leave, go find Golem and beat him senseless, then leave him for dead amongst the fish, go back to solo-ing it — why had he wanted a middle man in the first place?

The creatures hadn't sensed his presence yet, hadn't heard him or smelled him; he could turn around and run back the way he came, in complete darkness, and no one would be the wiser.

One of the creatures shifted in Red's direction and he froze, pressing himself hard against the rough cavern wall.

When the creature moved, an old, cracking pillar, dim in the light of the cavern, shifted into Red's line of sight. He frowned and craned his neck curiously. Floating above the pillar was a deep blue jewel, no larger than his hand; despite the lack of clear light, it still sparkled extraordinarily. At this point, he didn't doubt the possibility of magic, but he wasn't convinced it was worth 8.4 billion, not if he had to go toe-to-toe against monsters.

 _Red, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?_

It was always too good to be true. There was always a catch, and fighting demonic monsters was definitely a price too hefty for him, a thought affirmed by the four bodies. Red chewed on his tongue; one of those bodies had a ripped green backpack still attached to its shoulders, pressing against its broken spine. Some poor sap really did get lost in here.

The money was good, it was true, but sometimes you had to stop and realize that you bit off more than you could chew.

He took another look at the jewel, unsure of its value, of why it needed to be hidden and protected; however, knowing that there was a whole lore and otherworldliness to it, he knew he wasn't interested in finding out.

 _Time to get the hell out,_ he thought firmly to himself. Even criminals had lines they wouldn't cross. Red reached for his belt, figuring he could teleport himself out; he had never done it underground before, and in all honesty, he didn't fully understand the mechanizations and theories behind the teleportation belt (only that it was a sweet steal).

But the one thing he did understand, and the one thing he should've expected: life.

The moment he touched the teleportation button, it backlashed, fizzing out with a burst of painful blue sparks. His spot, once shrouded in darkness, lit up like fireworks.

Sixteen eyes turned to look at him.

Why did all the demons have four eyes?

"Uh…" Cheekily, he gave a short wave. "Hey?"

Without missing a beat, two of the monsters screeched in response; they opened their mouths wide, ready to swallow up his entire lower body if he made one stupid move. Their wings flapped and chattered excitedly as they rushed forward, faster than what he expected for their large size.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Red ran forward and jumped, unable to go backward for fear of getting trapped in the narrowness of the hall.

One creature dove underneath him; he used its head as a footstool to propel himself up into the air. He flipped and kicked the other's face on the way down, feeling his foot throb despite the reinforced material of the Red-X uniform.

Red landed easily, but when he looked up, he realized he had dropped right in the center of the four. Now that he was facing them, he saw up close how warped and deformed they looked, as if they had been born of the devil's imagination.

One of them looked as if it was smiling, but he couldn't tell for sure with the way its long teeth kept it from positioning its mouth in any particular way.

The five of them stood still, none making any sudden movements. Red glanced around; the jewel was still floating above the pillar with one monster hanging close by. The cave emptied out into a rather large cavern; the only exit was the narrow way he came in, impossible to fight in. There were torches on the wall, and four beasts, a possibly magical jewel, and that was all the data.

Swift movement in the corner of his eye — Red flipped backward, pushing off the wall to get height and distance; he narrowly missed a gaping mouth and flying saliva. He suddenly realized how heavy he felt with the backpack; it wasn't filled with junk, only a few gadgets he thought he'd need for the museum when he took into consideration his tiredness. Now it was weighing him down; he had to push himself off harder, move faster to compensate for the extra pound.

Red jumped again, but despite his acrobatics, the creatures were tall enough that their jaws snapped dangerously close to his thighs, forcing mid-air turns and weaves. The moment he landed another would clamp its mouth near him, and he was back up in the air, there was no time to even check if the belt was working.

The thought flickered in his mind that maybe he could talk his way out of it. The ugliest one tried to ram its head into his body; Red ducked, about to activate the blades on the back of his gloves, but he hesitated. Instead, him dodged and took a few quick steps backward, holding his hands up. If he was going to bargain, maybe it was better if he didn't try and slice up their faces.

"Listen, I'm leaving!" he yelled. "Just keep the jewel!"

In the back, he saw one tilt its head, but the other three rushed toward him, jaws open, snapping shut with sharp noises. The stench of decaying bodies choked him when they got too close. He could feel his body tiring, the past few days finally taking a deadly toll.

"I don't need to jewel," he shouted, but his words didn't have the reaction he was hoping.

They weren't going to let him leave. He felt like he was in a movie cliché, the one where he saw too much and now they wouldn't let him leave.

Red hopped over two, thinking about how he was going to get out of this mess, how he was going to fight four demons, how maybe if he ran at top speed through the cavern hall, he could escape them — and then he felt his side flaring up in burns. He was flying off trajectory; one of them had guessed (calculated? He hoped not) his landing and had head-butted his ribs.

Red hit the wall and then slumped to the ground; his entire body was throbbing from pain, from exhaustion. He thought he had heard a sickening crack on the way down, but now was not the time to find out.

"Fuck!" he growled, clenching his fists.

This was not what he signed up for. Was this worth 8.4 billion? Maybe — but he would've needed to know all the details before hand, every supernatural bit of it, to make a conscious and educated decision. That was the best case scenario, but as far as he knew, from what he could gather, this surely wasn't worth his life.

He didn't like surprises. The next time he saw Golem, he'd make sure he'd convey his sincerest appreciation for finding him such a good gig.

Yes — the _next time_ , not _if_ , because he was going to make out of this alive.

Red closed his eyes, breathing out; he focused on the pounding in his side, the pulsing in his back, his heart palpitating too loudly in his ears.

The same one that head-butted him came closer, eager to finish off the job, and without stuttering in movement Red jumped up and took it by surprise. His red blades activated on the back of his gloves, right as he punched the creature under its chin with all his resentment and frustration. Bone split from the force of his attack, and blue blood dotted the floor from where the blades cut its jaw.

While it was dazed and stumbling over to the side, Red pushed himself off with a leg, gaining height in the air, and with the instinct of a honed fighter he twisted; his other leg shot at the monster's face the moment as it recovered back into standing position.

It teetered and toppled to the ground, bat wings twitching. He jumped over it, pressing his hands on its maw and releasing an X-shaped bomb on its face; he flipped and it exploded, the sounds sparking and echoing throughout the cavern and the hall, though the small explosion did nothing to shake the structure.

The three monsters stood feet away, their beady eyes turning from their fallen comrade to Red as if sizing him up for the first time.

He shrugged off the backpack; it dropped to the floor with a soft smash. Something had broke, probably already broken, but what did it matter now?

"Let's go, fuckers," he snarled.

The three charged him. A tail came swinging his way; he ducked just in time to feel the air rush over his head despite the protection of the mask. He tried to drop lower and sweep one off its feet, but its legs were placed solidly on the ground and he only ended up smashing his shin; the vibration in his bone told him that he would regret it later.

A leg lifted up, trying to smash his face in while he was on the ground. Red rolled out of the way, finding himself right beneath one; he touched its stomach, placing a bright right X on its flesh. When he lifted his hand, the X elongated, a powerful adhesive. Red twisted and jumped, touching another one right beneath its jaw; immediately, both slammed toward the other as if propelled by powerful gravity.

Red turned to the last one, the ugliest.

It tilted its head.

Red bolted forward.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent out a ray of shurikens; the monster raised an arm with bulging skin and warts. They embedded themselves in its arm, no damages; he wondered if it was the leader. It acted differently than the others. As he got closer, the monster abruptly darted toward him, faster than any of the others; its jaw snapped at his stomach, then at his knee, and if he hadn't moved his arm in time it would've sunken sharp canines into soft flesh.

Red's leg torpedoed out in an attempt to disorient it by smashing its head, but one monster came from behind; Red had seen it too late. When the black wings showed in his peripherals, he turned his head; the jaw missed his neck but got his shoulder. There was a piercing pain; he held back a scream and swear. Instead, he took advantage of the close proximity and pulled out another blade and jammed it in one of its eyes, digging and twisting out of vengeance. It released his shoulder and screeched, a noise that sounded like grating rocks against glass. Red rolled away, one hand pressing against his injury in pain –– _fuck_ , it had bitten through the suit.

Abruptly, Red toppled over, his foot giving out beneath him, and then the world started spinning — the bloodied eye monster had snatched his leg in its mouth and dragged him through the air, throwing him across the room.

The thought hit that maybe he wouldn't make out of this alive — this was the end.

Red hit the ground, groaning, his vision blurring.

He rolled over onto his stomach, tried to push himself up. Would the adrenaline be enough to get him out?

Somewhere over there, they screeched; it sounded triumphant to him, and his blood and anger flared, but he didn't have any other tricks, any other clever ideas up his sleeves.

Heavy footsteps, noises of scraping claws against stone.

There were black spots in his vision. He yanked off his mask, feeling constricted, the air refusing to travel to his lungs.

Was this the end?

How would Raven get better without him?

And then he heard her laughter — soft and light, bell chimes.

He pushed himself up, pulled out two red blades. The monsters had congregated together and were slowly making their way toward him. He didn't need to know their language to read the arrogance, the merriment on their bodies. They could smell his fatigue; he was an animal missing a leg, and they were going to slowly give him his end.

Red gathered the rest of his energy, pooled together whatever he had left in his reserves. A wrist flick and shurikens were sent toward the other two, distracting them momentarily; he wanted to bring down the ugly one.

Red sprinted forward and threw the blade. The monster raised its hand, giving Red the opportunity to slide beneath it between its legs. He arrived on the other side behind it, and without pausing for breath, he pulled its wing and climbed onto its back, holding onto its neck.

He raised his blade and then crashed it down onto an eye, and then another eye, and another. Blood spluttered outward, a stream of blue, dotting his cheeks and suit. It tilted its head and roared, jerked its body side to side. The creature raised its wings, but Red held on tightly, reaching out with his drenched and sticky blade to carve out its last eye.

The other two suddenly jumped toward them. He jammed the blade in and pressed an X bomb to its head and hurdled himself off — _boom!_

Smoke and chunks of wart-covered flesh, dark blood (his or the monsters'?) — was it enough?

And then abruptly, shattering his hopes, the three monsters surged forward from the smoke, screaming and bloodied. Though they were missing pieces from their faces, they were more excited and provoked.

He felt his spirit sank, despite the clenching and unclenching of his fists to keep up his attitude. Despite all that, in the face of three gaping and blood-splattered demons that still had the energy to rip your bones from your flesh, there wasn't much sarcastic optimism he could find.

Red had never believed the cliched "time slowing down," but he had never been so close to the other side before: bleeding and throbbing, trapped in a cave with creatures ready to take him to hell. From his perspective, everything slowed down, as if life was giving him a chance to figure a way out, to make crazy calculations and create innovations that would save him, but he didn't have anything, nothing more to give.

In the back of his mind, he thought about Raven, about what she was doing.

Would she know, once he passed?

Would she feel it in her soul?

 _"Red!"_

The monsters had jumped into the air, ready to land on his soon-to-be corpse, when suddenly, a black silhouette of a bird crowed and emerged from the ceiling, dropping down in front of him. It raised his wings, its voice shrill and shaking the walls. As if his body had always known, he instinctively stepped back and shielded his face with his arms, turned his eyes away.

In a bright flash of white light, the three demons froze in mid-air, a blackness devouring their body slowly at first, then all at once, and Red was reminded of that first night with Raven. Without any warning, the demons were sent flying backward, slamming into the ceiling and plummeting to the ground, their wings forcibly ripped off.

Red shot for the pillar, grabbing the jewel as they writhed on the ground. In the same movement, he snatched his mask and then dove for the backpack — "Raven!"

Immediately after grabbing the straps, the black bird engulfed him and took him through the cavern roof.

* * *

On top of the hill, the bird dissipated and Red collapsed onto grass and dirt, groaning.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was sure he had fallen asleep for thirty minutes, but there was no way to tell for sure.

"Fuuuck…" he breathed out, feeling relief completely take over his body. His limps slumped and sank into the ground, and he wanted nothing more than to lay there for days. The night sky above him felt less creepy, now that he had faced the darkness and what it held; if anything, it looked as lullabies felt, pulling at his heavy eyelids.

He held the jewel up to the sky; it sparkled and shimmered unlike any gem he had ever seen. It was heavier than it looked, and cut in a diamond shape. There was a cloudiness inside it; he imagined a tiny demon trapped inside, but quickly pushed the thought away. He was done with demons for the night; if it was a purple-haired Titan, he wasn't interested.

At the idea of her, he heard her laughter.

Was the bird her? Did their soul-bond-connection thing actually work? He would've died without her. A debt repaid?

Red pushed himself to his feet. He slipped on his mask and tucked the jewel into a hidden pocket of his backpack. If the client wanted the jewel, Red was going to triple the price. With that smug reasoning, he teleported himself back to the apartment, slowly and painfully.

When he phased into the living room, he crashed to the floor and dropped everything to the floor. He had never known his carpet to be so comfortable. Red had the strongest urge to strip and crawl into bed — Raven or not — and fall into a deep and long sleep.

The Sand-man was intent on taking him, but the curiosity of both the bird that had saved him and the bird in his room was strong enough to pull him to standing. He made his way to his room, the tables and walls supporting the drained manner of his walk.

"Babe!" Red called out. "Was that you? The crazy bird shadow?"

She didn't respond; he entered the room, expecting her to be meditating or glaring at him for using the hated pet name, but instead, he found the spirit of Raven on the floor, gasping.

"Raven!" Red ran forward and crouched down to her level. He held out his hands, and the moment he did, realized how incapable he was of doing anything. How could he help if he couldn't even touch her?

"R-Red X — " Her breaths were coming in hard; the sound was raspy and grating, the air unable to fully make its way in. Her hands were clutching at her chest and throat.

He had just finished a job to come back home to this? Was he not allowed to relax for even a day?

"Raven, what the hell's happening?"

"S-some—thing's wr-wr-ong," she wheezed.

"No shit, Sherlock," Red exclaimed. He felt his body tense in panic as his brain flipped through all the books he had, went through all the game lore, all the hypotheses and possibilities. Was this a rejection to his soul? Was this some kind of a demon thing? Was this because she sent the bird out and used up too much energy?

Was she dying?

Her eyes were wide as she searched desperately against his mask, and for once, he was ashamed of his uniform. This could be the last moment of Raven, and in her time of terror, of death weighing on her mind, body, and spirit, she wouldn't have a human face to look into. He swallowed nervously against her purple eyes, against her invisible hands unable to reach out to him.

"X," she rasped. A black portal suddenly appeared beneath her, sucking her in slowly. Her legs disappeared as she sank lower.

"Tell me!" Red said desperately. "What do I do!"

Her stomach disappeared, and everything suddenly hit him as he watched her be submerged in her magic — something was happening to her, a _half-demon_. He barely knew anything about human medicine, so what could he possibly do to help her, someone who wasn't fully human? What if it required magic?

 _Shit, shit, shit shit shitshitshitshit!_

"What do I do?" he asked frantically, "Raven — what do I do!"

He heard her voice echoing his name as she disappeared into the portal, the image of her frightened eyes pulsing in front of him.

"Damn it," he yelled, slamming his fists into the floor. "Damn it! _Damn it!_ "

Her body that was once levitating above the bed slowly sank down onto the sheets.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Okay! That long beast of a chapter is number seven. Number eight will get revised tonight and tomorrow and posted ASAP — again, three days max! After that is finals for December, and I hope to see you all really soon afterwards.

I hope everyone finishes up their school year strong, that they spend a lot of time with loved ones for the holidays, and that everything goes awesome and exciting for you all.

Thanks for the patience! Leave a review if you've got the time; I would appreciate it so much! Let me know what you think!

Keep writing! And see you soon.


	8. Books and Burdens

**A/N**

Thanks to those that took the time to review! I really appreciate it.

Spark10111 & Thunderfiredragon: Thanks for the review (: Y'all rock my otherworldly socks.

BlackHeart-FallenAngel: Yay for intensity! Hope the questions keep you coming back, teehee!

And to my guest: Your review made me laugh and so happy. Congrats on acing that clinical competency –– now finish this semester strong!

Please enjoy (:

* * *

O8. Books and Burdens

"God I want you  
in some chaste, Victorian way.  
A glimpse of your ankle  
just kills me."

Clementine von Radics, _Want_

He woke up from a fitful sleep crumpled on the floor, Raven's voice still echoing in his mind. He speculated that it was a just a dream, but then he wondered if it was Raven trying to reach him from wherever it was she disappeared to. He hoped it was the latter.

He turned to her body in the bed; it lay on the sheets, no longer floating. He didn't need to know anything about demon lore to understand that that wasn't a good sign.

The clock in his room said 8 PM. He had slept for over twelve hours, yet his body didn't feel any better. The ache was still there, worse today, actually, and now it was accompanied by anger and frustration. In his knees he felt guilt, confusion, obligation in his arms and shoulders, and then deep in his stomach was a strange bout of loneliness.

For a while, he merely lay on the floor, unsure of what to do next, whether or not he was even supposed to do something. Yet, he felt like he should, and then there was the other part of him that said this was a good thing: one less flea out his hair, and even that brought an emptiness and falsity.

"Hey," he said suddenly. "Hello…? Raven."

He felt stupid.

Red sat up and gripped her wrist.

"Come on, say something."

He shook her arm, slowly, then desperately.

"Raven, what the hell do I know about demons? You have four fuckin' eyes! I don't — I can't…!"

He yelled in frustration, the desire to break something strong. He resisted the urge to throw the nearest thing, knowing that he'd regret it the moment it soared out of his hands; there was also the need to shake her, but he figured that'd do more harm than good.

Red took off his mask and slid it across the floor, the substitute for chunking items at the wall. It bumped at the foot of the bookshelf. He followed the wood upward; there were touches of her there: books that were moved around, knickknacks interchanged, spines rearranged. He looked back at her pale face, and it was as if she had thrown the Dracula book at him again.

 _Demonolatry!_

Red jumped to his feet and ran to the living room where he had dropped the backpack. He almost tore the top open to rifle inside. Ignoring the glowing crystal, he hunted for the book and came up short.

Of course it wasn't in there, he thought to himself — why would he bring it on a job?

"Where the hell is it?" he growled.

He scoured beneath the coffee table, behind the couch, under the cushions. Vaguely, he remembered pulling the knickknacks out before he left, trying to make room for his job, but that meant everything should've been on the table… He narrowed his eyes, recalling that Raven was a little too nosy for her own good. Granted, it wasn't the best idea to leave a book on demons laying around where an enemy demon could find it and figure out his intentions, but that was a strategic flaw to ponder on for another time.

Red went back to the room and looked through his shelves, but it wasn't there, neither in the stacks on top of the shelves or in line with the others.

Irritatingly, he glared at Raven's body. "Where the hell'd you put it?"

In the end, he stumbled into the bathroom on a whim, figuring that he should at least check in every nook and cranny, even if he felt it improbable. After all, she was in the apartment by herself for long periods of time while he was out.

There, in front of the toilet, he found it on the floor. He yelled at her body as if she could respond, but he wouldn't admit that talking to her made him feel better. Crouching down, Red picked it up, and then he saw something a white flap behind the toilet against the wall.

He narrowed his eyes. Reaching forward, Red pulled it out: a letter.

His stomach sank. So did his heart, and he didn't know why.

He took his belongings back to the bedroom, stopping to gaze at her unreadable face. He didn't understand this feeling, or what it even meant, or why he had it, but the thought came back, the one that had been fluttering at the edges of his conscious when he had been falling asleep — it'd be easier if they were on the same side.

Red sat down in front of the bed and stared at the letter. It was merely a sheet of paper, folded in half. When he flipped it over on the other side, Robin's name was written in a smooth blue font. Red made a strange combination of noises in the back of his throat, a weird throat clearing with a growl and a snarl. He placed it off to the side; personal irritation aside, he had priorities, and a dying Teen Titan on his bed was not what he needed in his life (yes, a Teen Titan, because that was what she was, not a bird, not a Raven, but a Teen Titan).

Picking up the book, he flipped open to the table of contents. There was a chapter that talked about demonic souls; he flipped to it, intent on reading and researching, but three pages in, he realized it was a load of bullshit.

This was a book he did not mind throwing across the room, and he did, knocking over a smaller stack of books in the process. He sighed, _of course._

He glanced at Raven and looked away. It was hard looking at her without thinking he had something to do with her predicament, that the jewel was evil and he was the weak link, consumed by greed.

Was it greed to want to be good at what you did? Was it greed to want to live easily?

When he saved her from the fall, he didn't think it'd come with so much responsibility. He would've left her had he known all of this.

 _Maybe._

The book was useless. He couldn't go to the black market, to the underground, or to Golem. There was no one in his life he could go to advice for such a delicate and sensitive situation as this. Red-X didn't have people to rely on; he worked alone, and the fact was truer in the sense that now he had disowned Golem.

The letter caught his eye again. He got up and left the room. In the kitchen, he washed his face (because the bathroom reminded him of the betrayal — no, the reality of it all).

It made sense. He couldn't blame her. He wouldn't blame her. She missed her friends, her life, her body; all her little kiddy _amigos_ were probably a nervous wreck away from a break down. In Boy Blunder's case, a simple push was more than enough to send him over into madness, if the last fight was any clue.

He gripped the edge of the counter suddenly, water dripping off his nose.

Where else in Jump City was he going to find a slew of information on demons?

Red grabbed the mask off the floor of his bedroom, fitting it back onto his face. He passed by a mirror and cringed at how beat-up he looked; the state of the suit was nothing to brag over. It'd take a lot of money to fix it, but he was sure he could find someone to pay for the skills and a closed mouth.

In the living room, he scooped the backpack; the jewel shined brightly. He stared at it long and hard; it was too dangerous to leave it there, and neither did he want to leave it in his hideout. There was a weird sixth sense telling him that if he lost sight of it, he'd regret it. In the end, Red took it with him, teleporting out of the room.

* * *

He had to make a stop at his hideout to grab an item, but it didn't take long to reach the pier. He rushed there as fast as he could after leaving, ignoring the pangs and ache; as he traveled, his thoughts exploded all at once and yet one after another at the same time.

How could he save her?

What was written in the letter?

And then the criminal in him would kick in: the why, the should he, the consequences, the plan b's and c's where he needed to get rid of the body and rip up her paper, but then that human thought, powerful and demanding, would push itself back to the forefront of all the yelling and panic: _how can I save her? What do I do?_

They were supposed to be connected, so why wasn't she contacting him? Her soul was leeching off his, sucking out energy; shouldn't she be able to talk to him through dreams or something, send him a message from whatever world she was in? Drop hints or drop letters written with magic ink and parchment through some demonic crow from the other realm? Maybe even send back the black bird, and give it a voice box this time around.

He landed on the factory across the way from the T-Tower, the stress pooling in his feet and fists.

She was a complete bookworm — one of the only things they had in common. That could only mean that she had to have something in her room, some book or pamphlet or secret soul animal that would guide him through this disaster.

Under the arm of darkness, Red jumped into the water.

The problem wasn't the security system; Red had broken into doghouses with more advanced security. Not to say that breaking in was a walk through the city park; the robot guy did a good job fortifying the tower, but it wasn't his _best_ work. Red had broken in once before, _without_ the suit; this time shouldn't be any harder. He always felt that the Titans relied too much on their reputation to protect their home. After all, who in their right mind would attack the tower that housed the five strongest meta-humans in the city? But, most villains didn't know that the security system wasn't as high tech as it seemed, either.

This was a bit of information Red kept to himself — not out of the goodness of his heart, but because he didn't want word getting out which would result in a heavily updated security system. He liked knowing that, with a few tinkering of the doodads, he could get in whenever he wanted.

As he got closer to the tower, he lifted out of the water in the only blind spot of the cameras; reaching behind into the bag, he dug around for his breathing apparatus, connected to the small oxygen tank he had taken from his hideout. Shifting the mask, he placed the gear into his mouth and between his teeth, and then he sank beneath still waters.

He headed below the island, the weakest part of the system. It wasn't the only way in; the easiest, for sure, but a little risker than the others, considering his suit would be unusable as it dried.

Once underneath, Red looked for the metal latch to their submarine tunnel, designed for faster access to the metal inside, in case of damages or whatnot. He found it easily enough, and with one hard jerk, it opened and he pushed himself through, fixing the small air tank against his mouth. He swam through, forcing his muscles to move one after the other, despite the tiredness he felt from the abnormal movements. Finally, the tunnel curved upward, the water pooled beneath air; he pushed up, breaking the surface. He fixed his mask and placed everything back inside the bag. Pushing himself up, he paused on all fours, resisting the need for sleep. He wondered if her soul tired him out faster.

There was a slight whirr of machinery, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw the emergency light in the corner.

If any of them stumbled on him now, he'd be screwed.

He sat up, still wet, but ready to find answers; and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited to sneak around the tower right underneath their noses. There was no time to wait to air-dry. He quickly stretched his legs and then shifted the backpack to wring out some water. Once he checked that the jewel was still safely tucked away in a pocket, he made his way toward the door, gently illuminated by the emergency light, and pressed his ear against it, waiting.

His body remembered all the movements, all the familiar sensations: the rush of blood, the buzzing in his thighs, the adrenaline high. Many seemed to think that what he did involved a lot of acrobatics; in reality, it was a lot of waiting and reading, a lot of tinkering with cameras and hiding in shadows of old museums or strange men's houses. And then sometimes, _sometimes_ , when you were crazy enough, you broke into the Titans' Tower.

It was late; he didn't expect them to be asleep, but when he pushed open the door, the dark hallways met him. Somewhere above, he could hear the TV blaring, but there were no voices, no signs of anyone awake. If he was lucky, they all retreated to their room. For them, Raven was still missing; there was no reason to have loud parties.

Red slipped through the door and softly closed it behind him.

From what he remembered, he had quite a few ways to go.

Staying close to the walls, he walked until he found their ventilation system in a side wall; lifting the metal up and out, he crawled inside, fitted the metal latch back in place, and then followed any noise of life that filtered down to his location.

This part was the easy part. He didn't even need to think as he pushed himself through the small openings, crawled left, left, then right, then climbed up and up without pause or problems. As much as he liked feeling the blood pumping in his ears, he liked the monotonous movements of ventilation mazes even more, the effortless pattern of hand then foot, the tranquility of hearing soft nosies echo against metal. His thoughts didn't even bother him, so focused on the repetitious motions.

Finally, the sounds of the TV seemed to be right below him.

Red found another metal opening and peeked through: the robot and the green guy were asleep on the couch, leaning against each other. How quaint.

More importantly, this meant that he was right above their living quarters; this floor was where they ate and congregated. From what he remembered, a little further up would be their rooms.

At one point, he lost time because he took an instinctual left turn toward Boy Blunder's room, wanting to peer through secret belongings (and find, maybe, a second suit). He didn't realize the mistake until he was a feet away from Robin's room.

The bright side of taking the wrong turn meant that he gave his suit and backpack more time to dry, and by the time he reprinted his internal map and reached Raven's darkened room, the suit was dry.

It took a bit longer to reorient the internal map, but eventually, he made his way to Raven's darkened room. The smell of incense and pumpkin-scented candles wafted upward. She didn't strike as a pumpkin-scented candle kind of girl, but it was a (pleasant) surprise.

Gently, slowly, and as achingly quiet as possible, he shifted the metal latch out of his way, making sure not to grate the metal against metal, and then dropped through. He landed with a light and airy _thump_ on her rug, where he paused, listening for movements or alarm systems. Then, after a few seconds longer of waiting, he got to work.

Her room really fitted her, he thought to himself. There were strange statues and ornaments, some which he was sure were magical, but he couldn't tell them apart from a regular, un-enchanted mirror, in all honesty, so he took to avoiding anything that didn't have a bound spine.

There were stacks and stacks of books, and behind or beneath or next to the towers were tall bookshelves, making his room look small and uneducated in comparison.

Red set the backpack near her bed, hidden by the dark and shadows. He raised his palms; the X's lit up the titles.

Quickly, Red peered through her collection, pulling anything that was in English that had to do with demons or her origins, which he heard had ties to her incantation. There were quite a few books that had strange cover, some of which felt as if it could help, but they were in a completely different language; he wasn't sure if they were even Earthly ones.

As he began stacking books against his arms, he went back to the backpack and opened it; once he saw the oxygen tank, he groaned. It wasn't particularly large, but there quickly understood that he wouldn't be able to carry as many books as he wanted with the machine in his way. Against his better judgment, he took it out and slipped it beneath the bed, replacing it with five dark books, two he found by pure luck about demon medicine.

He stood in front of a different bookshelf. Deep in his thoughts, he had a finger to the spines as he read the titles, walking without paying any attention, and then bumping into a large statue of a strange native mask. He turned in terror and reached out, both hands, and latched onto it, keeping it from swaying into his exposure. He held onto the statue, like that of a couple's embrace, and sighed, thinking that he was too tense and tired for all of these surprises.

When he stepped back in relief, he hit the corner of a bookshelf on his wounded shoulder blade with a sharp blow, and bypassing all of his internal alarms and systems, he let out a breath of a swear.

"Goddammit!"

Immediately, he dropped behind the mask and stacks of books.

Silence.

 _Raven, you're killing me,_ he thought with a groan.

He waited, not daring to move an inch in case it would trigger another law of Murphy's, but nothing was happening. The hair on the back of his neck woke and shook with energy, warning him that he couldn't take the risk.

Maybe no one heard him, he thought hopefully. Maybe everyone was in their own respective rooms at the time instead of wandering the halls — footsteps.

 _Shit._

He tried to crouch lower, tried to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. From the space in between the books and the mask, Red saw the backpack and stared intensely at it, swearing at himself, the world, and at Raven. He hoped the shadows from the bed and the room was enough to hide it.

The door exhaled opened, lighting one part of the room. A hero stepped in, but stopped at the entrance. Red held his breath.

Another set of footsteps. "Robin, is something wrong?"

 _Oh, my god, fuck you, universe._

"Hey, Star," he greeted. "I dunno. I just had a weird feeling. Thought I heard something."

They both paused at the door. Red wanted to bash his head against the wall; it took everything he had to restrain himself.

"I do not hear anything," she said.

"Yeah…" A sigh. "Guess I just imagined it."

"...I miss her, too…"

He didn't reply.

"I'm sure she is fine and that she will come home soon. Please, get some rest."

"…Night, Star."

He heard one of them turn around, probably Boy Blunder, but the alien girl was still there. Red swallowed; in another novice move, his foot shifted and bumped into a pillar of books. In a panic, he gently grabbed its side, tried to keep it from teetering; it stalled, he cursed and begged Murphy's Law not to take effect, begged for the alien to leave, for Raven to spare him — and then he heard the door close, a beat passed, and then the stack fell.

"This is way too stressful, you hear me?" he grumbled.

Red raised a palm and shined it on the fallen stack, peering through the books. Just like all the others, many of them didn't make any sense, written with symbols and in languages not of their world. He pulled a blue book aside that mentioned souls in the title. He was leaning forward, reaching next to her bed for the backpack, when a glow toward the door caught his eyes. He followed the faint light toward the ceiling, to the source: Starfire.

"Oh fu —" Red didn't have enough time to let the aggravated swears escape before she had him pinned against the wall, one arm pressed against his neck, crushing off his air supply; she had her free hand raised, holding a green fire that could do too much damage at such close proximity.

"Why are you in Raven's room? What have you done with our friend?"

He wondered if on her planet, people could speak while their throat was being pulverized.

With one swift move, he snuck his leg in between and kicked her firmly in the stomach, sending her backward. She fell out of the air and knocked over a lamp on the nightstand. Red fell to the ground, released from her hold; he figured there would be an ugly bruise tomorrow and he'd have to decide what was worse to tell people: that a pretty-girl alien kicked his ass or that he let himself get fooled into some weird choking sex kink.

"Listen — " He let out a mechanical cough. Starfire jumped to her feet, and then she was floating and glowing and ready to torture him for information. Red grabbed a book and held it up as if it would provide a shield or a reason for his trespassing.

"Speak quickly or I will make you," she threatened.

"Relax, relax," he said. He got up to his knees, feeling weird in the position as it felt as if he was begging, but there was no time to fine-tune the details of the situation. "I'm here for this — these — for Raven."

"You are lying." She put her hands together, forming a large green sphere, aimed at his chest. His first instinct was to jump out of the way; his fingers twitched, ready to reach for the teleportation button, but he forced himself still.

She had waited until Robin had left; that meant something.

"Wait! Wait," he exclaimed.

She paused. Her hands were still aimed to tear him to pieces, but he could see the hesitation on her face; she was thinking, fitting the pieces together. Her eyes flickered from the book in his hands to the backpack that had fallen over, filled with books. She glanced around the room; all the artifacts were untouched. The only thing that had his name on it was the fallen stack of books.

"Explain," she commanded. " _Now_."

He looked his lips, feeling his own hesitation.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

She wasn't going to believe him. How could she? _Why_ would she?

It was suicide to look her in the eyes and tell her the real story.

 _Hey, yeah, uh, so I saved Raven and then her spirit started haunting me like some parasite or something; then, when I got home from a job, she disappeared, so now I am obligatorily freakin' out for reasons I'm still not sure of, and I'm here stealing books to try and save her. If you could, like, not report me to your stick-up-an-ass leader, that'd be really great. Oh, and don't ask too many questions; there are a lot of things I don't want to think about right now._

The alien narrowed her eyes at him, impatient, and just when he thought it couldn't get worse, her eyes glowed green, a sign that she was switching on the killing switch.

"Not sure how to begin, honestly," his voice croaked out mechanically, but before she could respond, they heard a stampede of feet coming down the hall.

"Starfire! What's going on! Is Raven back?"

He jerked his attention toward the door, the expression underneath his mask more toward a resigned acceptance than panicked. He should've expected this. Everything that could go wrong, _would_ go wrong, and he didn't understand how he hadn't fully learned this yet.

He felt his body go through the movements of analyzing the situation: his only exits were the door and the one window; Starfire was right in front of him, fists raised and ready, and outside he could safely assume were the other three Titans, also ready to beat the living shit out of him, especially once they put two and two together (which would then equal the worse case scenario).

Red looked to the backpack; in milliseconds he decided there was no way he could reach for it and teleport out in time, which meant he'd have to hold them off long enough to get away. Maybe he could reach for the backpack and then monologue long enough to jump out the window. He could just teleport now without the backpack, but then what was the whole point of coming?

 _Come on Red, think, think_. Take Starfire hostage? Threaten Raven? Both?

Time was ticking, uninterested in slowing down for him this time around.

The steps were getting closer. If he didn't make a decision now, Boy Blunder would make one for him.

 _Okay, doable, usable, we can_ —

Abruptly, Red was pulled forward; he yelped and braced for a smack into a wall, but instead, he hit the side of the bed. He looked up, but Starfire had dropped to the floor in front of the fallen stack of books; the door opened and three people rushed inside, just as Red scrambled beneath the bed.

"Starfire!"

"Star! What happened?"

"What's going on?"

"What was that noise?"

"Is someone in here?"

"Are you okay?"

"Please, friends!" Starfire looked up from the stack; she raised her hands in peace, showing them that she was okay. "Everything is fine," she assured them.

Red watched her put a few books into the shape of a tower; if she hadn't just thrown him at the bed and threatened to kill him with her green glowing eyes, he wouldn't have thought that anything was out of the ordinary.

As the group stepped further into the room, Red quietly rolled deeper beneath the bed. Red touched his belt, reassuring himself that he still had a way out.

"Star, what are you doing?"

"Yeah, we shouldn't be in Raven's room."

"Ah, I was just looking around…" she said, her voice dropping. "I miss Friend Raven."

There was a silence that swooped in with her words; he was not surprised that he did not feel guilty.

"Come on, Starfire."

"I'll make you some tofu-dog, your favorite!"

"Nobody likes those damn tofu-dogs, BB!"

"You go ahead," Starfire said. "I must put back what I knocked over."

Two sets of feet headed toward the door; Red still had a breath sucked in, because there was always that one cockroach that never died.

Boots came into view, right beside his backpack. Red swore. Boy Blunder bent down –– _fuck fuck fuck ––_ but Starfire had grabbed the bag.

"No! It belongs to Raven. We cannot look through her things."

"Oh, sorry," he said.

"Go with Beastboy and Cyborg," she said. "I will go up soon. I just…want to be alone…for a moment."

There was a pause; Robin shifted his position hesitantly.

"Was there somebody else here?" he asked.

Red pressed his head against his fists, praying that she was a good liar, that she wouldn't rat him out.

"In some cultures, it is common to give voice to imagined personas to work out all the problems in your head," she explained. "Would you like to try it with me? It can be very enlightening."

 _Well, damn._

"...Maybe next time. Come up soon, alright?"

"Yes," she said, and their leader turned and exited.

This time, Red waited for the footsteps to disappear down the hall and around the corner before letting his body relax, exhaling exhaustedly out his mouth. It came out fizzled and strange through the voice changer, but he didn't have the energy to even chuckle at the noise.

Red crawled out from under the bed; Starfire was still at the stack, putting it back together. When she saw him, she looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing. He reached for his backpack, pulled it beside him, and checked inside: the books were still there, and further inside, in a hidden pocket, was the bulge of the jewel.

When Starfire grabbed a blue book, the one he had picked up earlier, he automatically reached forward; she relinquished it slowly.

"Sorry, need this one," he told her gently, and then shoved it inside his bag.

"You did not tell me," she began, "why you are here. Do you know where our friend is? Do you know why she has not contacted us? Did you…do something?"

The last words were said softly, but not timidly; he could hear the danger beneath the tender pitch of her voice.

"It's a complicated story," he confessed. Red looked through the piles on the floor. The bag was getting heavy, but there was still room for another book or two. He'd force five into the back if he felt they were a useful five. "She's okay. Sort of... Uh, like I said, it's complicated."

"Then, she is with you?"

"…Yes."

Starfire glanced to the torn shoulder of his suit, showing the shoulder injury. "Did she...?"

"Unrelated," he responded.

He zipped up his backpack, waiting for her to change face and attack him, for all the Titans to suddenly charge in because this was a planned event, but nothing happened. Starfire fingered a page of a book with strange symbols, and then she looked at him, nervous and anxious, unsure and guilty — hopeful. She was probably struggling between her instincts and her brain, juggling between the brave Boy Blunder and the crooked Red X.

"She will be okay," she said, but it hung in the air like a question. "You are not being dishonest?"

"Trust me," he said, the words foreign in his mouth and in the air. Red slung the backpack over his shoulders. "She'll be back soon," he reassured. "Don't — ah, don't tell the others."

They both stood. Starfire held the gaze of his mask, and he didn't know what to do, what was supposed to be said in a situation like this. Sometimes he wished there was a book written with the rules of etiquette for every strange scenario that life would throw at you.

"You must go out the window," Starfire informed him. "There is a machine that does not allow teleportation inside the tower." There was a brief flash of confusion on her face, as if she wasn't sure she should have even said that much, but Red nodded.

"I know," he said, and she frowned.

He headed for the window, the backpack heavy with books and burdens. He glanced back, not at her, but at Raven's room, and thought that she was a person who liked flowers but was too scared to buy them.

Though still unsure and uncomfortable, he said his thanks nonetheless; she didn't respond.

Red jumped out and sailed through the air — _Is this how she feels when she flies?_ — and then disappeared.

* * *

 **A/N**

Leave a review if you can, lovelies.

We'll chat soon!


	9. Priority

**A/N:**

I'm back! I haven't left, slinking as I have been in the darkness, waiting for that degree, bahaha.

Thanks for the patience. I know you've been waiting long, but I appreciate it all.

Please enjoy! And I hope you'll stick around for the next chapter.

Also, I'm not sure why he's always waking up at the start of these chapters, ahaha... Whoops!

* * *

O9. Priority

"Later on he will understand how some men so loved her, that they did dare much for her sake."

Bram Stoker, _Dracula_

She was surprised.

 _"What are you doing here?"_

 _"Let's go."_

 _"What?"_

 _"You need to come back."_

Flashes of light, and gold, and laughter.

 _"Raven, come back."_

 _"I can't."_

She slipped out of his grasp.

 _"I won't."_

 _"Rae_ — _"_

 _"Get out."_

Black flooded his vision. A sensation of falling…

* * *

He jerked awake on the living room floor, having fallen into a fitful sleep pouring over all the books he had nicked from Raven's room. For all the reading, scanning, and sticky-note-sticking he had been doing, he was still on the same square as the day before: the first one, the lost one, confused, and ridden with angst and annoyance.

Red held his head in his hands, sighing. He had had a weird dream, one about Raven in a strange world; they had exchanged quick words, and then that was that. He couldn't remember any particular, specific detail, and he wasn't sure if it was merely a dream or a peek into where she was being held mentally and spiritually, and at that point he didn't think it mattered.

What could he do?

He sighed and glanced at the page he had fallen asleep on: a paragraph about connecting spiritually to the demon realm — with spells. Useless.

Was she even in the demon realm? What if she wasn't anywhere?

He looked to another open book; he had placed a pink tab near the bottom of the page, marking a section on curing body ailments with the blood of iguanas mixed with peacock feathers. If that wasn't bad enough, the secret ingredient was a drop of one's supernatural and/or demonic powers.

 _Completely, utterly, fuckin' useless._

With another stressful sigh, he forced himself into the bathroom and showered, throwing his suit in a pile in the corner. He couldn't put that off to deal with another day; the only way he could get anything done was to have his suit be fixed, which meant that was the number one chore.

(Well, number two, but he didn't have any ideas for number one.)

Red didn't feel better after the hot shower, and everything seemed to worsen when he saw how empty his refrigerator was. Making a quick out-of-the-box macaroni and cheese kept his mind busy, but he frequently found himself walking back to his room to check up on her, as if she'd suddenly start levitating once again.

There was a consequence of her disappearance that he hadn't anticipated, one that aggravated him greatly: he was suddenly so lonely. The silence had always bothered Red; thus, the TV was never off, but now, even the hum from the passing series couldn't hide the loud emptiness.

He ate his macaroni quietly, realizing midway through the meal that he had subconsciously seated himself in front of the bed in his room, staring at the wheels of his chair.

He didn't need or want her presence. _Nope_.

But it _was_ quiet.

"Starfire's pretty chill," Red said suddenly. "She didn't turn me in to Boy Blunder, even though she had every reason to. Also, your room is kind of dark. Are you trying to put up some facade or something? I know you'd like flowers — don't deny it."

She didn't, but then again, she didn't say anything at all.

"This is stupid." Finishing his macaroni, he left the room and closed the door, intent on not going back in, no matter what. Dropping the bowl in the sink, he decided to wash his face in the kitchen for no other reason than to do it.

Back in the bathroom, he scooped up his suit and shoved it into a backpack, and then exited his apartment.

His hideout wasn't far. It was right across the street, the same floor as his apartment's; the window was opposite his own. For paranoia reasons, he walked around the block several times before entering the building. Red greeted the front desk receptionist, a bored-looking man with too many colors in his frayed hair, and then took the elevator up.

His door had six locks, five of which he had installed himself. Once entering his hideout, he was greeting by the smell of machines, cologne, and books; immediately, he felt at home. Unlike the apartment, this one had traces of Red everywhere: wallet, old photos, letters and contracts, blueprints and photos of areas he had staked out; he had even dropped off clothes and receipts from areas he frequented.

If anyone found this place, he was more than royally screwed. There were nights where he had debated on moving the hideout to some place farther away, but, despite the risk, he preferred the close proximity, and the fact that he could peek out his apartment window and see it across the way.

Red turned on all the lights and cleared his large table, set in the middle of the room in front of a large TV hanging against the wall. He turned it on for background noise, and then plugged his record player in for more noise. Red switched on the lamp overlooking his workspace, spreading the suit on it.

He whistled and winced. It wasn't as bad as he had originally thought, but it was still pretty awful. The bite marks had expanded into large holes, one of them evolving into quite a tear, but the damage was at least contained to his shoulder. Against his skin were thin lacerations, nothing too deep. They almost looked like large cat scratches, as though he had been rolling around in the lion exhibit. Mostly, there were just deep bruises, but nothing like his ribs — nothing he couldn't handle.

The suit, on the other hand… It was developed by Robin himself, and though Red was decent with technology (one had to be at least semi-masterful with machinery, as people had upgraded from the usual deadbolts and padlocks), he was nowhere near proficient enough to fix up such an advanced suit.

Red rifled through the cabinets, pulling out the blueprints about the suit he had stolen from the tower to make a copy of them. He grabbed a nearby set of scissors and cut out the extra details and writing in the corners, not wanting others to have such sensitive information about the suit.

He looked through the gadgets, then. Scratches here and there; there were a few on the belt that had him particularly nervous, but they seemed to be working fine. He figured he'd tinker around with them at a later time.

He'd have to make a few calls, he thought to himself as he worked; he'd have to visit The Underground — there was no way around it.

 _Red_ —

Immediately, he turned around, chills on his skin. He recognized that voice.

"Raven?" he asked tentatively, but there was no reply. He looked around the room, though there was nothing to see, no bird, no Titan, no ghost.

He shook his head.

"Priorities," he mumbled. "Suit first, demon second."

* * *

Red cleared his throat as he stepped into the elevator alongside two amateurs with home-made masks and a seasoned veteran with a deep blue uniform and eight swords attached to his back. Red himself was in black clothing, turtleneck, pants and hat, and a simple mask that covered his face. He had a backpack that carried the hidden suit and blueprints; his thoughts briefly flashed to the jewel hidden in his hideout. He was suddenly having second thoughts about tucking it away in his safe, but he wasn't going to wander into the black market with such a pricey and mysterious artifact.

When the elevator stopped, the double doors opened and Red stepped forward at the same time the amateurs did, bumping into them. They opened their mouths to bark haughtily, their new and fresh arrogance an annoying pimple grown from the clutter of The Underground.

He hardened his gaze, and though they couldn't see it, the atmosphere dropped with his irritation.

"Move," he said coldly.

They hesitated, as if they wanted to challenge his authority, his experience, but the hesitation gave way to submission and they stepped back, allowing both Red and the blue villain to step through first.

Red shook his head as he watched them disappear down an aisle, merging with the buzz of conversations and bodies. Those days, everyone thought that being a villain simply meant that one needed a couple of costumes and fancy gadgets. There were aspiring villains showing up like that daily, but rarely was there ever a new face that lasted more than six months.

Red paused and looked around at the hustle and life. He hadn't been to the black market other than the villain's supermarket in a little over a year, give or take some months. Once he had figured out how to mess around with technology sufficiently enough on his own, he cut off the need to visit. The Underground wasn't necessarily a cut-throat place, but each person there was for themselves; the prices were high, and the favors were higher. And anyway, he was a simple thief with a powerful suit; it wasn't imperative that he buy a new machine gun every week.

The Underground was a large and almost endless bunker. There were rows of different stalls, areas cut off with walls that signified different stores or cafes (two of the largest being a private practice of a doctor and a small motel for those passing through). Each vendor sold ideas, services, products, people, while the supermarket (conveniently located a few blocks away) sold less unique, more mass-produced items (and groceries).

Some vendors and villains recognized him despite the fact that he was out of uniform, having worked with him before his Red-X days. Respectfully, he nodded at them as he passed; they returned the acknowledgement, and then returned to bartering or yelling or threatening, whatever it was they preferred.

However, Red was on a search for a specific building; he had never needed to enter it, but he knew relatively of where it was located: Match's shop, it was called. Match had a clever brain that dabbled and mucked about with a variety of high-tech objects and rare items, able to put them together or take them apart with a quick look. He dealt with high profile clients, and it was rumored that it was those same clients that funded The Underground and the supermarket, protecting Match like an investment.

It was also rumored that Match was expensive — painfully so. There were people who claimed to have dropped out of the business due to a visit with Match, needing him to fix some rare equipment or whatnot, and though he did as he was commissioned, he also left them penniless. They were unable to come back after that, and that same equipment was sold to the said main who fixed it.

Red was _really_ not looking forward to doing business with him.

After a few turns and bumps into more amateurs, the "building" finally came into view. It was an area set up with broken walls; rugs and clothes covered the entrances and holes. On top was a gray cat playing with its catch.

"Here we go," he muttered, pushing aside the green cloth and entering.

Red was instantly hit by the smell of bitter cigarettes and a strangely sweet odor of nitroglycerin.

It was dim and smaller inside than what it looked like it should've been when one judged the outside, and that was due to the fact that there was a clutter: shelves of tools and small statues created from wiring and machinery, dusty books of anatomy and the blending of flesh and metal, cabinets overflowing with papers and files, and at the center in the back was an old, wooden table, and the man Red had come to see.

"Match," Red greeted.

Match didn't look up from his newspaper.

Heavy black boots were casually resting onto the table beside a plate of a partially eaten sandwich and a bowl of popcorn. On the other half of the table were a variety of wrenches and screws, littered around blueprints, papers, and open books.

Red stood feet from the desk, unsure of how to proceed. There was a raggedy chair where he assumed clients were supposed to sit, but he doubted anyone actually ever did.

"A customer. Fresh meat, perhaps?" Match folded the newspaper and dropped it somewhere behind him; then, he moved his feet to lean forward on the desk, staring expectantly at him.

"Red-X," Red corrected.

A large smile formed then. "Ah, welcome, thief," he said, his green eyes sparkling with the notorious glint of a villain who had too much time on his hands. Match was one of the few who did not have need to hide his face; it was a testament to the power of his sponsors and protectors. "Sit."

"No thanks."

"I won't attack," he chuckled, but Red shrugged in response. "Come closer then, and tell me what _ails_ you."

Red hesitated, feeling the prickles of anxiousness and nervousness, but he stepped forward anyway and slipped off his backpack, reassuring himself that there was no one better in the business to fix the suit and keep it _hush-hush_.

"I'll assume it's about the suit, since you're out of your infamous uniform."

Match's musings were found to be correct when Red pulled out the ripped suit and laid it on his desk; to make room, Match quickly pushed off the books and papers. Unable to contain his excitement, he grinned eagerly and pulled the material closer, examining it with all the gears and instruments behind his eyes.

"Mhmm… Ah… Hm…"

Were those good signs? Or signs he was about to be double-crossed?

Match whistled, impressed, when he found the damage to the shoulder.

"Ticked off Robin a little too much on one of your latest heights, hm?" he asked, snickering.

There were quick images of fangs and drool. His ribs ached at the reminder.

"…Unrelated," Red replied.

Match said nothing more on the matter, not because he respected Red's privacy but because he was more interested in muttering about Xenothium and listing off its capabilities as he rubbed the frayed edges of the fabric in between thin, coarse fingers.

At his request, Red brought out the copies of the blueprints, and Match devoured the information, glancing with a smirk at Red when he noticed some missing side details.

Match opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a small notepad and green pen; he quickly wrote something down, folded it, and slid it across the table.

"Deposit the money by the end of the week," he explained.

"How much?"

"However much you value your privacy, X." He didn't look up from the notes he began scribbling on the papers, his tone smooth and nonchalant.

Red groaned mentally, but with a curt nod, he took the paper and slipped it into his pocket; then, he zipped up the backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He exited the "store," and then ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

 _Money makes the world go_ , he thought, and then headed toward the exit of The Underground, his feeling of hesitation and wary groans only multiplying with every step and every new worst-case scenario thought up.

He bumped into more novices as he made his way back to the elevators; for some reason, they always wanted to stand in everyone's way. He didn't say anything to any of them, and most were more bark than bite, so whatever it was they yelled or slurred at him he opted to ignore.

When he finally made it back to the entrance/exit of The Underground, the elevator had just dinged and allowed a set of people to disembark from the metal. He entered with a small group.

It took them to the fourth floor of an abandoned factory. From there, there were multiple hidden exits at a variety of locations, some created by the anonymous group that sponsored The Underground, and others that were already in place due to the wear and tear of the building. A couple of the villains he rode with took to the stairs and one went out the window; Red himself went to the roof.

The cold air and open sky was refreshing. In the dim lights he could see the faint silhouettes of bats, and he wondered if there were ravens up there, too.

He breathed in and thought about everything he needed to do. He numbered them, gave them priority, pulled them toward him and set others away into the darkness. One by one, he told himself; it was important not to get overwhelmed.

It was the first time that there was someone depending on him, he thought, the first time in a long time.

It was a shitty feeling. Red shook his head.

He was about to reach into the backpack to grab the belt out when he suddenly caught a rotten smell, one that brought to mind yellow teeth and traitorous deeds.

He whipped his head around, and with what felt like the blessing of gods, Golem came crawling up the side; he was probably there to head into the black market, but it must've been due to sweet karma that it was at the exact time that Red had been leaving.

As Golem straightened his back (as much as his arched spine would allow), he froze, feeling the hard stare of a villain who stood feet away, unmoving. A soft breeze blew; Golem inhaled, and then smiled, turning slowly.

"My dear friend, X," he greeted, sickeningly saccharine.

Red tilted his head, easily replying, "I'll fucking punch your face in."

There were no words to describe the rage threatening to burst from his body, the red wrapping around his arms down to his fists like tentacles. As if to reinforce and justify the anger, his brain brought back memories of underground demons and glistening gems, of otherworldly screeches and teeth sinking into shoulder.

Golem chuckled. "Empty threats, my friend," he said, "empty promises," and his words only served to raise and rile Red's blood further.

There was a split second delay where Red fumed and Golem mockingly laughed, but in an instant Red lunged across the distance, fist raised to deliver good on his words.

Despite his speed, the gap between them allowed Golem to dodge his swing, scrambling on his feet; he wasn't without fear, Red was sure. Golem was not a fighting man, a hypothesis that was backed but the clumsy way he maneuvered, fast, but barely avoiding the intense swings.

The fire behind Red's hands were powered by his rage, by the double-crossing, but even more than that he was fueled by his frustration.

Everything he had felt for the past few days, every moment of helplessness, every moment of staring at Raven's lifeless body on the bed, every page turned of a useless book spewing some useless spell — Red put it all into his punches, calculated and precise, and yet wild with fury.

It took all of Golem's energy to duck and dip, and each time Red swung he swung closer, his fist hitting space millimeters from Golem's face, but Red was patient. He was angry, but he was not stupid; he didn't let it take over, knowing that every step, every computed move, would bring him closer to satisfaction.

And the moment came — Golem found courage in the fact that he was narrowly moving out of Red's rhythms, taking the energy to laugh and squeal like a pig, and like a pig he was caught and trapped, tripping over a foot misplaced from the tempo; and Red's swing connected.

The punch connected with a crack and a hard thump, knuckles against cheek, and Golem was sent flying backward from the force behind it. He landed feet away, gasping and crawling.

"X-X — wait," he heaved out painfully, but Red descended upon him darkly, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt.

"You're going to tell me _everything_ ," Red snarled. "And maybe I won't pummel you _as_ badly."

"X — listen, my friend, listen — _hieek_!" He yelped in pain when Red sent a swift and fierce punch into his stomach, thinking of his own ribs that had taken a toll, and all for what? A jewel and questions that were more trouble than they were worth.

"I ain't your _fuckin_ ' friend," he hissed. "Now tell me what I want to know."

Golem clutched onto Red's hand, trying to position himself in a way where his feet weren't slipping against the floor due to the angle Red had him in. There was sweat and snot and saliva dripping from Golem's face; his breath was hot with the scent of fear and garbage, but if Red wasn't so furious and in such need of answers, he would've punched him into unconsciousness and thrown him over the roof to get rid of his smell.

" _Now_ ," Red ordered threateningly, and Golem nodded, heaving painfully.

"O-okay, r-relax, X," he said. "A — a new guy bought me out."

Red raised his fist.

"No, no! R-really! The man I told you about, friend — uh, X, the man who c-commissioned you. It was all him."

"What does he want?" Red demanded.

"N-now, you know it doesn't work like that," Golem said, his thin tongue slipping out to lick his dry lips nervously. "I'm just the middle man."

Red paused, glowering at the way Golem twitch and sweated. He was lying, _son of a bitch_ ; he knew more than what he was letting on.

Red didn't need evidence; he didn't need a jury; he didn't need to witness it firsthand. All he needed was a gut feeling, because in the court of Red-X, that was enough to condemn a man.

Barbaric? Sure, but his gut had never steered him wrong before.

Red lifted Golem up and slammed him against another part of the ground; he choked up saliva and swear words.

"Oh, Golem, don't be so _humble_ ," Red said. "You're more clever than that, eh?"

But the fear and desperation took over Golem, and he started kicking and writhing against Red, trying anything and everything to get free; Golem leaned forward and took a large and sharp chomp out of Red's arm.

"What the fuck!" Red cried, but that moment was all Golem needed to break free of his tight grasp. He tried to slither away to the edge of the roof, and Red reached out to grab another fistful or shirt or flesh or even hair, but there was a sudden caw, a loud screech, and abruptly a silhouetted bird shot up from the floor beneath them, its four eyes glowing red.

His reaction was instantaneous, and in later days he would find it embarrassingly shameful.

"Raven!"

The rat slipped to the edge of the roof, the distance gifting him courage, his pain granting him fury.

Golem wiped at his face and sneered, knowing that if Red would not be fast enough to grab him again, not as long as Golem was moving against the walls and alleyways, his personal domain.

Either way, Red took a step forward, but then there was a warmth pulsing behind him, a heat emitting from the bird. He looked back; the black raven was beginning to fade. It cawed out to him softly.

He looked back to Golem on the edge; he was snickering despite the left side of his face swelling up.

"There comes a time in every man's life, X," Golem declares, his voice high and condescending, a sure change from his whimpering and cursing moments ago. "This is your crossroad."

"Shut the hell up," Red growled, clenching his fists.

"Whichever shall you choose?"

"Shut _up_."

The bird crowed again behind him. He knew what it wanted, but he also knew that if he let Golem go, right now, right at that crucial moment, the traitorous creature would slip into the darkness, slink into the sewers, never to be found again, not unless he wanted to. And he doubted that the gods would give him another opportunity like this moment; and he was just about to get answers, he was just about to ask the right questions, give the right amount of persuasion — but Raven. _Raven._

When did she become important?

When did this become a dilemma?

Why was she in his way? He couldn't have both? He couldn't save her _and_ take Golem?

"This is no time for hesitations," Golem rasped. "I take my leave, X."

With that, Golem crawled over the edge and disappeared into the obscurity of the night.

Red turned to face the bird, tired, frustrated. It spread its wings, urging him, and with a silent promise and a shaky exhale, he jumped into the bosom of the Raven's shadow.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thanks for sticking around.

Much love.


	10. Invader

**A/N:**

Quite possibly one of the fastest updates I've done. Thanks for sticking with me.

I really hope I did the pacing okay... Turns out I messed up some things; this originally was about 7,000 words, but the pacing was shitty and I didn't know why, so then I had to edit and cut and rewrite and ugh.

This is the finished result. I'm tired of reading it, bahah.

I hope you guys enjoy.

* * *

1O. Invader

"But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires."

James Joyce, _Araby_

The bird had taken him to Raven's room, dimly lit by the light of the moon and the glow of the four eyes.

Turning its head toward her vanity, it folded its wings and disappeared in a shaky black swirl, spiraling inside what looked to be an old mirror. It trembled from the force, and then fell to the ground in a clatter. If that was the sign, then he hoped the mirror hadn't shattered.

Before Red could pick it up, the door opened and he froze, cursing his luck until he saw green eyes.

"Uh — " He was going to go for a witty and annoying remark until he realized he was out of uniform and definitely _not_ supposed to be in a Teen Titan's room.

Red threw his hands up in the surrender sign, much like that night, and quickly said, "Listen! Listen, it's me."

Her fists were raised, but at his words, she scrunched up her face and eyed him up and down, looking for evidence.

"Uh. Toots?"

Starfire immediately frowned. "Yes, that is Red-X…"

At least she believed him. Abruptly though, a sudden thought hit her and panic entered her body.

"You must hide!" she exclaimed, and without asking for an explanation he dove beneath Raven's bed, recalling the first time he had unwittingly made her an ally and how thankful he was at that very moment. Pressed against the floor, he felt the rumble of footsteps before he heard the voices.

"Starfire!"

"Raven!"

"What the — Star, _again_?"

"Um…"

He heard her shuffle awkwardly and hesitatingly, but he had witnessed her ability to deceive the last time around, and so he was not worried— though he _was_ nervous; who knows, maybe one of them would see through her this time around.

"I am very sorry," she said quietly. "I merely… I thought I would, perhaps, borrow one of Raven's books."

"…Why?" That sounded like the green one, always questioning things when he should just leave the matter alone.

"I could not sleep," Starfire explained. "I have heard that, on Earth, people will often read before going to bed? I…thought that I might try this technique and see if it would help."

"Books, huh. Gross."

"Hey, Star," — the cyborg — "I know you miss Raven, but you really shouldn't come in here so much. You don't wanna mess with anything." A robotic hand reached down and picked up the fallen mirror, and then disappeared out of Red's line of vision.

"Oh, man, is that _that_ mirror?"

"Yup," the robot muttered with distaste.

Red's ears picked up at that. Any and all information about that mirror was welcomed.

"What mirror?" Boy Blunder asked.

"That's that stupid mirror that sent us into a crazy world with birds with freaky eyes — four eyes, by the way, _four!_ " Beast Boy cried; his feet were jumping around with enthusiasm, and Red could only imagine what his hands were doing. "And then there were, like, _eight_ Raven's, and there was a maze and then the _real_ Raven was pissed at us and there was a freakin' final boss battle — "

"It's a portal," the machine-man interrupted, possibly shoving his hand in the other one's face and muffling his rant, "and _BB_ here was messing around when he _shouldn't_ have been."

" _Whaat_!" Said Titan pulled away, offended. "It totally wasn't my fault!" he complained. "Who the heck has mirrors that are actually _portals_ into their _brains_ anyway? What's up with that?"

"Man, shut up."

They exited. The two remaining in the room, once again, were Starfire and Robin, the one whose detective nose was sharpest in the most unnecessary of times. Red wondered what would've happened had it been Robin to have caught him instead of Starfire. Would Boy Blunder have given him the same courtesy, the same trust the alien had, suspicious yet still willing?

 _Doubtful_. Red snorted mentally.

"Star…"

She turned. "Yes, Robin?"

"You've been in Raven's room a lot lately," he remarked.

"Oh, yes, I just — "

"Miss her," he finished.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"…Yes."

"Are you…sure that's it?" he asked, shifting his weight to the other leg — impatience? "There's nothing else?"

Red held his breath. There was a moment of silence that stretched on for too long; he almost thought that she was communicating with her eyes, and that at any moment Robin would swing his leg beneath the bed and catch Red square in the face, but then he saw her body tremble slightly (maybe a shake of the head) and then he heard Robin sigh.

"I'm sorry if I've overstepped a boundary," she said softly.

"No, Star, it's fine; it's just…" Another weight shift. "Just… You — we should keep out of Raven's room, right?"

"…Right," she acquiesced.

The door opened and closed, Robin disappearing out into the hallway. Red waited seconds before peeking his head out to see a Starfire staring forlornly at her hands, wrenching the edge of her pajamas. He didn't think Titans wore pajamas, figuring that they slept in their uniform so that they'd always be prepared.

Her pink jammies had patterns of white rabbits; it was atrocious and childish, but it fitted her in an odd way.

She paid him no attention, until finally, he touched her shoulder, his nudge soft and gentle so as to not startle her.

"You alright?" Red asked, and it finally registered how his voice sounded without the mask in the presence of a hero. She would probably memorize everything she could to use against him later, but he pushed the thought away and focused on the priority. He'd worry about that when the day came (and hopefully, it wouldn't).

Starfire jerked back to reality, turning to look at his gloved hand, and then at his mask and hat and backpack.

"Red-X…?" she said tentatively.

"You saw the suit," he said with a shrug, his brief explanation for how he was dressed. He took a closer look at her, the way she was holding herself, the conversation from before. "…Trouble in Wonderland?"

She stared at him, his sentence processing, and then she narrowed her eyes and looked away. "It is not of your concern," she remarked. "Why are you here?"

"Raven brought me here," he told her.

Starfire turned back to him, eyes surprised and hopeful, and then her gaze shot around the room as if Raven had been hiding in the darkness.

"No, I should've clarified," he sighed, shaking his head. Red stepped to the vanity and picked up the mirror from where Robo-Cop had placed it. "There was a bird — Raven's soul, probably — and it brought me here and then disappeared inside the mirror."

"I don't understand."

Red gazed into his reflection. It looked warped; he looked like him, and yet he didn't. The change didn't seem to be a physical one; it was more like an unnerving feeling he got when looking at it. He held the artifact up at different angles, examining it; it looked creepy, but there wasn't anything that looked particularly out of the ordinary.

They said it led to her brain, her mind. Was that where she was being kept? Inside her own mind?

Starfire's voice pulled him out of his thoughts: "Is she…in there?"

He lifted a shoulder in response, continuing the analyzation. Was there some sort of button? Maybe a way to get a message in? They said it was a portal, but they never said how they got in or back. The green one had just babbled about birds and multiple Raven's; it hadn't made any sense.

"Why will you not tell me what is happening to my friend?" Starfire asked abruptly, her voice gaining a tilt of anger. The situation was finally dawning on her: it was no small matter what she kept hidden in Raven's room. "Maybe I can be of help."

Red's first and instantaneous thought was that he didn't want her help; and then he winced at the brutal honesty. From what he gathered, he didn't think she would _be_ much help, and — and what?

And nothing, he thought.

(There were threads being teased, threads that needed to remain together and stitched and unbroken; that was all.)

"It's complicated," Red said. "…It's demon shit; I doubt you know anything about that."

She was shaking, but he was too tired and too occupied to feel bad.

"She's my friend," she asserted.

"Yeah, well I'm — "

— He stopped, because he remembered that he was nothing.

"Listen," Red began more calmly, closing his eyes to still the throbbing in his head. "I'm on her side, okay?"

It took a bit of convincing silence to get Starfire to accept his words; it was harder with the fact that he had the mask on, unable to reach her through human eyes and expression, but he did the best he could under the circumstances. She didn't need anymore secrets, and he didn't need any more baggage. She was a strong contender in battles, but off the field she seemed to be missing a few important marbles, or maybe he just didn't feel like babysitting. Either way, he was content to solve things himself.

Red turned back to the mirror.

Four red eyes stared back at him.

"X!"

There was a burst of familiar, black power and he was suddenly falling — no, not falling — being pulled through.

The world he had been in quickly disappeared behind him, and just as he was getting his mind wrapped around the fact that the portal worked and that the situation called for a swear word, he landed on his feet on a beaten, stone path that was floating in a black sky lit with red stars.

He looked around; Starfire hadn't made it through, but he still had the backpack. The mirror must've been left back in the room.

Beside him floated debris, some large enough to hold emptied trees; the only occupants of the world seemed to be dark ravens with four crimson eyes.

Beast Boy's words echoed in his head.

This was it then. This was where she was being kept.

There was a sudden presence behind him; the hair on the back of his neck stood upright. He turned, fists raised to defend himself, but it was Raven that stood before him.

 _No…Raven, but not Raven._

He furrowed his brows. She wore a red cape instead of the usual blue one; her head was tilted toward the ground.

 _"There were, like, eight Raven's!"_

Her face slowly raised to look at him; four red eyes opened from beneath the hood.

He suppressed a shudder at the familiar sight. Was she the part of Raven that came out that first night?

She smiled eerily, her teeth more fanged than he expected.

"Raven…?" he said unsurely.

"Yes," she answered. "One of them."

He didn't know where to begin, if there was even any time to form a coherent sentence and receive an answer. Did she even have answers? Was she the one who pulled him here?

But instead of helping him find the necessary words, she ignored his confusion and continued.

"Bring her back," she announced. "I grow tired of being here."

"Back?" he asked, finding his voice. "From where? Where is she?"

"Stuck," she replied. She pressed a pale and slender finger against her heart and said, "Here," and then she touched her forehead, "And here."

Before he could process exactly what it was she was cryptically saying, she pointed down the broken road. Up ahead, behind a small group of demonic birds, stood a great, stone archway.

"Go there," the red Raven told him.

He nodded and restrengthened his resolve. Raven was just little further up; soon, he'd get her back — and out of his hair. Right, because that was the end game. A dead Titan in his bedroom wasn't what he wanted.

 _Breathe deeply. Prevents chest infections_.

He hesitated; he had jogged down part of the way but had stopped, his motivation strange, his confusion doubling, a nagging feeling beneath his tongue. He wondered if it was this place; was it doing something to him, too? In the end, Red decided that, though he didn't want to know, he'd ask anyway: "Was it me? Was it a soul rejection or something?"

She focused on him for several seconds in silence. In that moment, Red felt that she could see right through him, right through the mask and the hat and the turtleneck to the crumbling threads he was trying so hard to stitch back together.

Then, she turned her gaze and stared at something in the distance. A large clap of thunder seemed to come from that direction; it reverberated throughout the dimension, scaring off some of the birds.

"We think," the other Raven began, "that someone tried to come in."

The shadows took over. He dove forward to the portal.

* * *

He was falling through the sky.

"Shit _shit_!"

Rather than the blue background and white clouds he was used to seeing, all around him were hues of reds and oranges and yellows. There was a large orb setting behind him — the sun, he supposed, but it was larger than the one he was used to, and not as hot. Beneath him was a giant castle, situated on a large piece of floating rock; it looked like a scene out of a fantasy movie, and then he realized that, in this fantasy movie, the ground was coming a lot faster than he wanted.

Red held onto the straps of his backpack, but before he could consider grabbing the belt, there was a _woosh_ of air and he stopped inches from the ground. He thought he would end up on his feet, but he fell backward with a large _thump_ , the items in the backpack jabbing into his body painfully.

"Fuck magic," he swore, groaning and rolling over.

Digging his hands into the dirt, he pushed himself up.

Everything felt real and familiar, and yet there was another part of him that warned not to get sucked in.

"Priorities," Red muttered to himself. "Find the bird, get the fuck out, and then go to Chipotle."

Never mind the fact that he didn't know where Raven was located, that the castle looked like one giant maze, and that he had no clue on how to get out or in ( _and_ that the Chipotle near his apartment complex raised their damn prices).

He seemed to have fallen in the woods. There were a lot of trees and bushes, many shaped in ways he had never seen before; several of them had strange flowers and fruits, and there was a floral smell of grass and wood in the air, a scent that was soothing and unfamiliar to him.

He found that he had fallen feet away from the castle, somewhere to the back or the side. It didn't matter, because the bottom line was that he wasn't near the entrance. Red tilted his head back, straining his neck, as he looked upward at the height of the castle. There was no way he could climb that. Briefly, Red wondered if he could teleport up there, but then, as if answering his plea, there was a loud creaking and groaning noise.

Part of the wall in front of him began morphing, rearranging pieces to make a door; there was a buzz of black and white streaks of electricity, and when it disappeared, a wooden entrance was left in its place.

The door opened slowly, revealing a dimly lit hall that led to a staircase.

A voice whispered, "Go," by his ear; no one was there when he turned around. It seemed that, rather than an angel, he had a demon looking over him.

"Yay," he mumbled.

With a quick breath of courage, Red walked in and the door closed behind him softly.

When he approached the stairs, he saw that he could go up or down, and that at various places it broke off into hallways. Figuring that, in all the games he played, no one important was ever located at the bottom of the castle, he took his chances with going up.

As he passed by the halls, he peeked through; they were lit with torches, some with windows. There was a multitude of rooms and doors, and there were echoes of voices and chatter, but he received no gut feeling, no whispering, that told him which specific way to go. He hoped he'd know when the time came, otherwise he'd be lost in the literal maze of Raven's mind.

As Red ascended further, he eventually saw people: servants, dressed in distinct colors of robes, all of differing ages and sizes and genders. However, they all looked human, and they all seemed to walk with a purpose and speak with personality. If this was all a hallucination of Raven's imagination, it was well-done, meticulously so.

Several times, he had to jump into halls and around corners to hide from the servants; he was thankful that none of them had abilities to sense his presence.

Most of them held conversations, talking about a feast and celebration and bouquets, but there was nothing useful, nothing about Raven or even a locked-away princess.

Red looked up; there was another set of voices and footsteps descending the stairs. He slipped into a nearby hallway's shadows; they passed by him slowly, both dressed in gray cloaks.

"She is sleeping," one of them said; it sounded like a woman. "Peacefully, it seems."

"That's good," the other, another woman, replied with a nod. "Our lady Arella will be pleased."

Red waited until he couldn't hear their voices anymore, and then peeked back into the main staircase.

They spoke of a _she_ ; could that be Raven? It was the only clue he had; figuring it was better than nothing, he quickly went back up the stairs.

He came to a set of hallways. Judging by how quickly they had descended upon him, he concluded that they must've come from one of these halls, but which one? Left or right?

"Come on, Raven," he muttered, thinking not of his Raven but of the red one. "Give me a sign."

Both halls were decorated with tapestries and tables set with flowers and artifacts; there were stained glass windows and rugs, but one didn't look better than the other, nor did one "resonate" with him more.

"Am I at the wrong hall?" he mumbled, looking back and forth between the two, and then looking further up the stairs. There was a slow, growing anxiety that someone would stumble upon him, that all of the servants were actually monstrous demons in disguise, guard dogs able to recognize an intruder. If he got caught, would that be the end of the quest? Would they kill him, or throw him out the dimension and then close off the entrance?

Unexpectedly, he heard the soft caws of a bird outside a window off to the right.

He paused, wondering if he it was a rookie mistake to think that every noise and whistle was a clue, but immediately after that thought came the conclusion that there wasn't any time to second-guess himself. He took off toward the noise, thinking, _Good enough for me._

It didn't take long for him to find the bird singing its tune; it sat on the edge of an open window, unafraid as he moved closer. Its feathers were black, but as it rustled its wings beneath the rays of the sun, it shimmered a deep red.

Next to the window was a closed door. The bird looked to him and tilted its head, chirping.

"Can't you just give it to me straight?" he asked quietly, but the bird only turned its head from him and then flew off. He groaned mentally.

Red reached for the knob and gently pushed it opened; it moaned softly, and he winced, thinking that it was announcing his presence to whoever was inside.

Peering inside the darkened room, he saw that it was a bedroom; a large canopy bed was set in the middle, in front of thick curtains blocking the light from the windows. A mountain of blankets looked to be covering a body. He entered, closing the door behind him quietly.

"Raven?" he whispered. There was a head of purple hair peeking out from beneath white fabric. "Psst. Raven."

Red moved closer, glancing around. There was no one else inside and no other doors. Like the halls, the room was decorated with statues and tapestries, and if this was any other time or situation, he would've nicked a few expensive-looking items, but there wasn't any room for greed today.

Once he was right beside the bed, the body turned, and Red ducked, waiting for a scream; however, all he received was the steady sound of breathing. He peeked over the mattress and blankets; Raven was asleep, surrounded by several pillows — and this Raven, he noted, had two eyes.

He almost fell into the bed in relief.

Finally, he had found her.

"Raven," Red called softly, reaching out to shake her gently. "Raven, get up."

She didn't wake, so he shook her more fiercely.

"Come on, you troublesome piece of shit, get _up_!"

Slowly, her eyes fluttered opened; he felt a grin grow on his face, just as he saw fear flourish on hers.

"Wait, Rae! Don't — "

She opened her mouth to scream and he lurched forward, muffling her cries with his hand and scrambling on top of her. Her purple eyes were wide with terror, no different than that night she sank into the floor, pleading him to help; but now he was the one scaring her, and he didn't understand why.

"Shh, shh, stop! It's me, it's me!" Red pinned her down with his legs and weight; her hands were trying to push him off, trying to claw at him in defense.

"Don't scream!" He was vaguely aware of how awful the scenario seemed. "Stop! I'm here to bring you back!"

She gripped at his hand, but at his words, she had stopped thrashing, though, the unease never left her eyes.

"I'm here to bring you back," he said again, but the words didn't seem to register. She didn't trust him, and his gut was telling him that he was not going to like what was probably going to happen next.

"Listen…" he said. "I'm going to take off my hand, now, alright? So, don't scream, okay?"

She nodded slowly. He removed his hand; she didn't yell, but instead she kicked him off the bed with all her strength, and he fell to the ground loudly and swearing, taken by surprise. His hat fell in the process, but his mask was still thankfully attached.

"Who are you?" she asked, pulling as far away from him as the bed allowed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'll explain later," he replied. "Come on, let's go."

Red reached forward for her hand, but she jerked away quickly as if he was made of a burning poison.

"No," she said quietly.

"You can't be serious…?"

The other Raven hadn't mentioned amnesia; he didn't know what to do. She barely trusted him when she knew who he was; how was she supposed to trust him now, with him even more of a stranger than before?

Red scowled, the frustration building; he reached out to grab her wrist again. "There isn't any time for this."

"Stop," she said. Her eyes glowed black. "Get out."

 _No, no, this can't be happening._

"Raven, I'm — "

" _Leave_!"

A black portal abruptly appeared beneath him; Red fell through, cursing her purple eyes.

* * *

Red had landed in a cell.

"Fuck me!" he yelled frustratedly, slamming his fist against the brick floor. "You've gotta be _fuckin'_ kidding me!"

He had travelled all around for her, spent nights reading books and passages that didn't make sense, almost got captured by the Titans, _and_ let that bastard Golem get away — all for her, and this was the payment?

"I'm here to _fucking save you_!"

"Such vulgarity."

Red sat up at the unfamiliar voice: it was a woman, an almost older version of Raven. She had the same deep purple hair, a similar haircut, the same jawline…was this…?

She stood on the other side of the metal bars, a safe distance away from his cell; she probably thought he was going to reach through and grab her. She was right, of course; he would've.

"Get the fuck out of my face," Red said, laying back down with his back to her.

He was enraged; he was hurt — no, no, just angry. He was just angry and tired and sore, and he didn't understand why he was here or why things weren't happening the way they were supposed to be happening, why life kept throwing things at him about a bird he had only saved on a stupid whim.

"You are upset," the woman said, her voice a higher pitch than Raven's. "Did you expect her to go with you so easily?"

There was a twitch of indignation that he suppressed.

"She belongs here," she said. "With us. With me."

"You're crazy," he grumbled.

"Are you not? Coming all this way to save an _enemy_?"

Red didn't move. She was baiting him. He wouldn't play her game.

"Oh? You won't deny it?" she asked. "Did you really think you could win _immunity_? That she'd give it to you? That the others would've honor it?"

Red closed his eyes. The threads were unraveling, bringing forth his own questions, questions he wasn't ready to answer.

"She will stay here," the woman announced softly. "And you will rot in this corner of her mind, forgotten."

The cell became quiet then. He stole a glance behind him and saw that she had disappeared, leaving him alone to the thoughts he had tried so hard to keep at bay.

Her voice was still reverberating throughout the room, slipping between the metal bars to slowly bounce off the walls of the dungeon.

She didn't know what she was talking about; and that made sense. She was a figment of Raven's imagination; she only knew what Raven knew, and what Raven knew was the little lies he had told her.

Red didn't think he could get immunity. He never thought he could.

He closed his eyes, glowering bitterly at the darkness that greeted him, frustrated and annoyed and helpless.

Of all the people that the stupid bird could've gone to, of all the heroes that she knew, why did the bird go for _him_ , the thief that stole Boy Blunder's suit? It couldn't have _just_ been the soul connection, right?

And the biggest question: why did he agree? Why didn't he just ignore it and go after Golem instead? Why did he pick Raven in the end? He didn't believe for a second that he could've gotten immunity, so then why?

 _"Was it me?"_

 _"There was an intruder."_

And now he was in a cell inside her _damn brain,_ stuck.

The next move was looking for a way to escape. Forget her. Forget her baggage. Forget her problems. He didn't care.

He didn't care. He didn't care.

He should've left her in the dumpster where he had found her. He shouldn't have gotten involved. He shouldn't have cared.

He _didn't_ care.

 _No half-assing._

 _What the fuck does that even matter_. Red sat up, leaned against the wall, his head in his hands as if nursing a hangover or a migraine, maybe some horrible combination of both with a sprinkle of emotionally-expensive consequences from dumb decisions.

 _She sent me through a goddamn portal._

The image of amethyst eyes flashed in his mind: wide with dread, narrowed with annoyance, blinking with ease.

 _"Breathe deeply."_

 _I know. Prevents infections._ So he inhaled and exhaled slowly and thought to his healing ribs, thought about how, that night, he had fallen asleep with her meditating beside him, how every night since she disappeared he had nodded off over the smell of incense-wrapped books.

 _Fuck off._

 _"Sorrow. 1882."_

Her voice was soft in his head, feathery, like that time she asked him about a letter, how she had looked so see-through, as if she'd disappear with a gust of wind.

 _"You will rot here."_

She should've disappeared then. He should've let her.

 _"Why did you save me?"_

Why was he still trying to save her?

 _I don't know._

There was only enough room for one person in his life; there was only ever one person in his life. Any more than that and it got complicated. Look at the evidence, he told himself; he saved one person one time and that had triggered a volcanic eruption.

Yet, his brain was still tickling at the coals of another plan.

He was still thinking of saving her.

 _Why?_

Why her?

Why him?

 _"You brought this upon yourself."_

 _"Wouldn't it have been better to just let me die?"_

 _I don't know._

Red had never once thought that he was lonely.

 _I…_

Maybe he was. Maybe that was the real reason why he needed background noises, why he was trying so hard — why it was so quiet in the apartment now, even with the TV blaring.

Maybe it was a fascination, an aching, a yearning.

Maybe it was an interesting notion, a curiosity, a normalcy that shouldn't have been.

Maybe it was a quiet thought that had taken root in the back of his mind, growing vines when he wasn't looking.

And maybe he just didn't want to admit anything, not to himself, not to the universe, not to God.

 _"I'm tired of being here."_

 _You and me both._

 _"Bring her back._ "

 _No half-assing._

 _Get up, get up._

He'd save her if only to rip up that letter and burn it in her face, if only for bragging rights: one more thing to hold over her head.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I didn't want him falling for her first but... Welp. He just couldn't resist, I suppose.

Drop a review if you can, lovelies; it'd make my day.

See you soon.


	11. Connected

**A/N:** IT'S HERE. I LOVE YOU BEAUTIFUL CREATURES. PLEASE ENJOY.

* * *

11\. Connected

"He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking."

Leo Tolstoy, _Anna Karenina_

"Are you going to save her or are you going to dick around here forever?"

It was the other Raven, dressed in red with her four glowing eyes.

"Dick around, obviously," Red retorted.

She smirked and he grunted, though he was secretly pleased to see her; maybe she could point him in the right direction.

Despite the hope she brought, he still found her extremely unnerving. In all honesty, he was starting to expect such things from the Titan girl. There used to be a semblance of normalcy that he could look forward to at the end of each day: SpongeBob and spaghetti, but now disappearing ghosts and cryptic demons was the expected routine.

At the moment, though, he wasn't "dicking around." After rifling through his rather useless backpack (and clipping on a belt that refused to teleport him outside the cell), Red was reduced to picking the lock with a couple of bobby pins he had found in one of the pockets. Honestly, they were a thief's secret weapon, and he really should've already had them hidden away on his person, but the suit had him spoiled.

When Red glanced up at her again, he saw that she was settled in the silence, comfortably leaning against the wall to watch him struggle.

"So, are you gonna help a guy out or are you just here to pussy foot around?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I don't think that phrase describes this particular situation," she remarked.

"What the fucking fuck does it matter?"

"You took too long," she told him. "I came by to see why _you_ were pussy footing around."

Red pressed his face uncomfortably against the mask and bars, more so in the hopes that he'd accidentally knock himself out than try for a better position to pick the lock.

"If you can move so easily through her mind," he began, "why don't you just pull her out yourself?"

"If it was that simple, don't you think I would've done it by now?" she replied cooly, to which he growled irritably.

Of course it wasn't that easy. What was he thinking? Nothing regarding the Teen Titans was ever easy.

The lock finally clicked. With a thankful mutter of swears, he pushed it open and stepped out, cracking his back to relieve the ache from crouching at such an awkward angle. He put on his backpack and tightened his belt; the teleportation didn't work, but he'd make good use of the weapons on that damn woman's face.

"None of us can get near," the other Raven continued. "We 'fizz out' if we get too close."

Red shook his head, uninterested in asking. It was just more demonic magic stuff; it wouldn't make any sense even if he knew the details.

"Can't you guys, I dunno, send telepathic messages or something? Aren't you all connected, or — or a part of each other anyways?"

"She won't listen to any of us," she admitted. Despite the tinge of irritation in her tone, her voice remained impassive.

"And you think she'll listen to _me_?"

"Yes." She had said it without any condescension, without any sarcasm. He didn't know what to make of it, if he should be pleased or apprehensive.

"…Well, you got any useful information for me then?" Red asked.

She pointed upward. "There's a celebration happening for your capture in the main room," she informed him. "She's there with Mother and Father. It's on the ground floor."

 _Lovely,_ he thought. He was gonna meet her parents before even asking her out to dinner.

"This recon stuff would've been real helpful before all of this happened…"

"Beggars can't be choosers, Red."

More cryptic nonsense, he groaned.

Suddenly, she reached a hand out to his face. There was an anxious tickle at the back of his neck. He wasn't sure which eye to really focus on, and then because he was hesitating and nervous, he wasn't sure if she would realize and be offended, and then rip out his esophagus with her teeth.

She reached forward slowly. He tensed, but did not flinch when a long nail scratched at his mask.

"Take this off when you see her," she said.

" _What_?"

"Do it," was her firm response. She disappeared — fizzing away, he supposed, though her voice lingered long enough to say, _"And stop dicking around."_

Red snorted. The bragging rights would be held over her, too, considering she was a part of Raven.

He turned toward the stairs, spiraling upward. The shadows were cast onto the steps, flickering from the small torches.

Cautiously, Red made his way up, pausing around every turn. There was some hustle and bustle coming from above, but nothing that signified any worst case scenarios.

She had said there was a grand celebration happening on the ground floor. Maybe that was the cause of the noise trickling down to the dungeon steps. Red imagined something along the lines of a ballroom from a fantasy movie. In his mind, he saw Raven with her own seat in a form fitting and long dress, engraving his face in her mind the moment he pulled off the mask.

What was that going to accomplish, revealing his face in what was literally enemy territory? Would it shock her into regaining herself, killing two birds with one stone: coming back to her senses _and_ obtaining his coveted identity.

The sound of footsteps echoing at the top of the stairs interrupted his uneasy thoughts. He pushed it to the back of his mind and pressed against the stone wall, looking around — there was nowhere to hide.

 _Fuck!_

Red dropped down several steps, thinking that maybe a miracle would happen and they'd just turn around and walk back up the stairs. He tried mentally calling out to the other Raven (or any of the Ravens), hoping they'd help him out, but the footsteps continued, reverberating almost ominously despite the softness of the sound.

A decision needed to be made. He refused to get caught simply due to indecision. There was nowhere to hide, and it was pointless to run back down the stairs and jump back into the cage. They'd probably hear all the noise he'd make in a desperate attempt to beat them.

Before they rounded the curve, Red lunged forward and gripped their ankles, tripping them forcefully. They fell with a painful smack on their back, earning a groan that bounced off the walls, but there was no time to think of the repercussion. He could only hope that no one heard.

Red scrambled on top of the servant, pinning them down with his weight. He pressed one hand against their mouth and gripped their neck. The hood had fallen to reveal purple eyes.

 _Raven?_

But it was only a servant. In his confused horror, though, his grip had slackened, allowing the servant the opportunity to push him off and struggle for escape. There was a sharp intake of breath, one that always preceded the scream. If she screamed, he was done for; he'd be caught and left to rot either there or in an obscure other dimension, and Raven would be lost.

His body reacted desperately, charging forward. The first few notes had slipped out her mouth, high pitched and petrified, but he had tackled her and cut her off.

There was a trembling in his stomach, but it had to be done. Even as he stared into familiar purple eyes, he twisted her neck. She fell limp and quiet. The only sound was his panting.

Red exhaled shakily. She had disintegrated into gray particles, but the snap of her neck was still vibrating between his fingers — or maybe it was just the tremors of old memories.

He pushed himself up and glanced around the curve of the stairs. There was no change in the noise level; it seemed that their scuffle did not alert anyone.

Red looked back down to where her body was. All that was left was a gray cloak.

"Not real," he muttered reassuringly to himself. It had been chillingly realistic, but the fact that she had burst into nothingness was further evidence that what he had done was necessary and painless, despite what her eyes said. "Not real."

The pieces of an idea began sparking together as he picked up the cloak. He shifted the backpack to the front of his chest in order to hide it easier, and then he donned the cloak. It was a hair shorter than what he needed it to be, but considering he had the backpack, he needed a slight hunch anyway.

Red scaled to the top of the staircase, inhaling to calm his nerves. This should work; this _had_ to work. As long as he didn't do anything out of the ordinary, he should be able to get to where he needed to go. He hoped so, anyways.

When he stepped into the hall, he saw the reason for the noise. There was a flow of bodies coming and going, carrying plates full of food or empty trays that needed to be refilled. Off to the right was a swarm of servants and sounds, fanfare and a clamor of conversations. That was probably where the celebration was taking place.

There were several people that bumped into him, but no one apologized and, more importantly, no one noticed him, until one servant stopped in front of him suddenly.

 _Keep cool, keep cool._

"You have come back from visiting the prisoner?" The voice was young and shrill.

Red nodded, swallowing nervously.

"All is good, I presume."

He nodded again.

"Good," they said. "Then you are needed in the main hall."

The servant turned and merged into the crowd, and Red quickly made his way toward the main hall, thanking his luck. No matter how independent they seemed, they were still robotic in thoughts, a great advantage on his part. At least an army full of slow moving, gullible idiots was better than thinking machines.

The stream of servants came not from the main door but from a side door. He supposed only those of status would be able to make a grand entrance. Red followed the wave of servants; there were several without trays or plates, making him feel more secure.

The main hall was brightly lit and large, filled with long banquet tables with dishes of foods and goblets of a violet liquid. It wasn't intricately decorated, but the few paintings and chandeliers that were there complemented the stained windows well. Besides the throngs of servants, maneuvering efficiently and silently between cracks in the crowd, there was an abundance of monks humming chants and important-looking guests chattering.

At the other end of the room, on a raised platform, were three thrones. He recognized the older, Raven look-alike; then there was Raven, waiting for him to wring her neck; and then beside her was a red demon with white hair and four eyes.

 _Oh, you son of a bitch…_ This was not a pleasing turn of events. He could only hope that her demon father was as stupid and weak as the rest of them, though he definitely didn't look it. His arms looked the size of his head, and his thighs were double it. A flick from his finger and he'd probably pulverize Red's ribs into powder.

Raven's mother raised her glass, and the entire hall fell silent. "Thanks to the wondrous power of our daughter, the invader has been jailed," she announced.

The crowd cheered and clapped excitedly. Raven gave a small smile, but she looked uncomfortable. There was a strange furrowing of her brows; her gaze wavered slightly. A jolt of hope struck him. Was she starting to realize that her world was made of dreams and illusions?

The woman continued. "Today's celebration will be for her prowess as a warrior, as a mage, and as the next ruler of our kingdom." She turned to Raven and held out her hand. Hesitantly, Raven took it and stood beside her. "In your hands, my love, this land will prosper."

The crowd cheered further, and as the acclaim died down, the demon beside them stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on Raven's shoulder.

"My daughter," he began, his voice powerful and deep. "I am the proudest in all the dimensions. All tremble before you; all kneel before you — as they should. I am the creator of many offspring, the master of many servants — but you have made me an honored and satisfied father."

Raven's cheeks turned pink. It was a good look on her. He wouldn't mind turning her red himself, and then he reminded himself that that was neither here nor there.

The speeches and excited praising continued. As they were distracted, Red used the time to slowly maneuver his way closer to the throne on Raven's side. He didn't have a plan; he didn't even have an outline of anything usable other than _save her_ _and get out_.

If he could just get her alone… Would that work? He could pretend that there was a problem and ask her to follow him. Another thought hit: he could simply grab her and pull her along. She couldn't send him through a portal if he had a tight grip on her wrist, right? — _Makes sense._

The clapping crowd brought Red's attention back to the family. He paused momentarily as the speech finished, hoping he wasn't as out of place as he felt. The monks and guests raised their glasses and goblets, and then everyone in the hall downed their drinks. Afterward, the celebration continued, and all the servants resumed their duties. Red gently pushed his way through to the front.

When he got closer, he saw her mother turn to Raven and say, "Why don't you go thank the head monk, my darling? He has taught you well."

Raven nodded and stepped down to the floor, feet away from Red.

This was it. This was his moment. There was a rush of adrenaline, panic. He still didn't know what he was doing, didn't know why the others couldn't help, but this was an opportunity he couldn't let pass, even if he didn't have a direction. He pushed through the horde until he cut her off.

"My lady Raven," Red said. "There is an urgent matter."

"What is it?" she asked.

"With the — the prisoner," he lied. "Your mother requires that you, uh, send him to the next dimension. For your own safety."

In confusion, Raven looked back to her mother, still standing in front of the throne. She was looking over at them curiously. Now that he noticed her, he saw that there were several heads starting to turn in his direction.

"My mother says I should be thanking the head monk for his teachings," Raven said.

"Right, but this has just come up and takes priority," he argued. "It's too dangerous to keep him here."

"I was just told — "

"It'll only take a second, my lady," Red interrupted quickly, but the moment he gripped her wrist the hall became quiet.

 _Shit. Did I fuck up?_ Red spared a quick glance around. All eyes were on him. Raven was gazing at him, unmoving, the gears ticking and clicking. Then, realization dawned on her face.

"It's you," she said.

 _So much for that plan,_ he thought grimly. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held on. The crowd formed a circle around him, and the air felt still and seized with tension.

"Raven, Raven, baby, you've got to listen to me," he urged. "I'm not here to hurt you. I was sent here; you brought me here — to save you."

But Raven yanked her hand away as if he were poisonous, and before he could say anything else, several servants talked him to the floor, pinning his hands down. They ripped off his cloak to reveal his mask and backpack, and Raven rushed back to the safety of her fabricated family.

"Insolent swine," the mother hissed.

They pulled Red to his feet, pressing his hands behind him to keep him from fighting back.

The woman had pushed Raven behind her, but the Titan girl was peering at him, looking at him no matter how the woman tried to block the view. That meant something, right? That glint in her eyes was of doubt, right? It had to be a flickering of uncertainty, a sign that the truth was thrumming in her bones. She had to sense that they were connected.

"I'm not your enemy!" he yelled. "Let me explain!"

"Silence, invader!" The woman grabbed Raven and pulled her closer, trying to pull her attention from him. "You're an insect. I see now that we will have to deal with you as we do all pests. Tie him up and take him away."

Raven peered around the woman. She opened her mouth as if to say something. He tried to send her his thoughts, his feelings. — _Raven!_

Nothing happened; she only stared at him from afar. The servants began to pull him away beneath the smug stare of Raven's fake mother, and Red felt a surge of frustration, of desperation. He had come to save her. She had wanted him to. She picked him over everyone she knew, over Starfire, over Robin — and he had picked her over Golem.

Mustering his strength, Red broke free of the servants grasps, bringing back to mind the cold truth: he wasn't going to die here. Nothing would be done half-assed; he would save her, and then he would brag and hold this rescue over her head for the rest of her life.

He peeled off his backpack and chunked it at another set of servants, more of a distraction than a powerful weight. Red dropped to the ground next, sweeping his feet beneath them and knocking several to the floor. With a break in the army, he charged forward, using one minion as a means to jump higher into the air. He twisted mid-lunge and pulled out shurikens; swift flicks embedded them in multiple heads. The victims burst into particles, but he couldn't celebrate for long. More simply took their place.

"Kill him!" the woman shrieked.

The servants swarmed him; there was a myriad of hands and feet. Red would dodge one or shatter another, and then like amoebas more would appear. He fought his way through the crowd, keeping in the air as much as possible. The goal wasn't to mow down the army; it was to get close to Raven. He evaded as much as he could rather than deal damage — eyes on the prize.

"Raven!" Red called.

She was looking at him. There was a buzzing in the air, an electricity answering her wide eyes.

"Raven —"

"I want him dead!" the queen yelled. The wave of cloaks beneath him moved in time with his movements, trying to trip him, pull him from the air, bind him to the ground; but Red was fast and nimble. There was too much on the line for novice mistakes. He ducked and punched, sending out powerful explosions as he flipped away acrobatically. A heavy fatigue was starting to settle, but he was getting closer.

On stage, the woman continued to wail shrilly, gripping onto Raven. "She is our daughter. _My_ daughter. She is mine! She will not leave us — she will stay here with her family — _hnk_!"

A flying red X embedded itself in her throat.

Red landed, gracefully knocking several more servants to the ground as their attention turned to their leader, gripping her neck in fear. It all looked so real. He had thought blood would spurt out of her veins, grisly and gory, but she only gave a choked breath and then shattered into gray pieces. The shuriken clattered to the ground.

"Mother!" Raven cried.

Red had thought killing her would break the illusion, but Raven had fallen to her feet in devastation and held herself.

She gripped her head. "No, no…"

Suddenly, a burst of powerful energy pushed him back just as he was inches from touching her hair. The red demon beside her abruptly grew in size, roaring in anguish and anger — hers. Horns sprouted from his head, making him look more satanic. He bellowed and a black energy erupted from his mouth, destroying part of the ceiling and dropping chandeliers on servants.

Red leapt across the room as glass and people were smashed. The demon looked to Red and put his hands together, forming another burst of energy. Red barely had enough time to keep from slipping on the debris, forced on the defense once again.

"Disrespectful," her demon father howled, pointing at Red. "Disgusting vermin. You will be annihilated!"

There was another heavy flare of energy and magic, but instead of coming from Raven or her hellish father, it pulsed from somewhere behind Red.

A black sphere was growing in the middle of the room with an unyielding gravity, pulling nearby servants and furniture and foods to it; everything that it absorbed shattered into gray particles. His backpack went flying by, disappearing into nothingness, but thankfully nothing was inside.

The hall was in chaos. There weren't any screams of panic, only the sounds of destruction and disappearances, only the reverberations of the barrages of attacks from the demon as Red jumped and swore, unable to get close to either the demon or Raven.

"Goddammit, Raven!" This wouldn't be a problem if she would just _listen_ to him.

He didn't know his next move other than dodging the bombardment of energy. Even as the sphere sucked people in, there were still servants and monks trying to punch him or grab a hold of him in a last ditch kamikaze effort.

A table flew by, followed by another beam of magic that almost blew him to smithereens. He threw shuriken that shattered servants, but uselessly bounced off the giant.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Red shouted, hoping to shock Raven back to reality. Instead, he saw that her eyes were beginning to glow as she held onto herself tightly, her only form of protection from the ruin brought by the truth.

As mad and distressed as he was, he could understand. It was a good place she had built — but she hadn't arrived of her own volition. Her petrified face was still engraved on the back of his eyelids; he could see the reflection of the skull mask in her purple eyes. He wasn't going to leave without her.

In the move to jump over another blast, Red dove right into a thrown chandelier. He was slammed into the wall, thinking that everything was so painful for a made-up world.

Red hit the ground and he groaned, looking up just in time to flip out of the way of another oncoming blast. Using a nearby servant, he lunged into the air, throwing a handful of bombs in the monster's direction. There was a pained howl, but Red knew better than to hope for anything more than surface damage.

As the smoke was still dissipating from the bombs, Red sprinted toward the crestfallen Titan.

"Get away!" she screamed, her voice emitting another explosion of power, pushing him back.

"I'm here to save you," he yelled again, but she shook her head furiously.

"You're lying. You're _lying_!"

"I will crush you until you are nothing but dust," the demon roared, seemingly in response to her emotions. "You will never leave this place alive!"

Red was pulled to the wall closest to her demon father. He hit the concrete with a heavy smack, and then collapsed to the ground, painfully swearing, but there was no time to pause for breath. A shadow descended on Red, and when he jerked his head up he saw a giant foot, intent on smashing him into oblivion.

Red rolled and slid between the creature's legs. He attached bombs to the colossal calfs; several bombs had been caught in the black sphere's pull, exploding uselessly mid-air.

"Goddammit, Raven, would you just stop this and listen to me! Babe!"

"Don't call me that," she hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about. Just leave me alone. Leave me alone!"

The sphere grew in size, sucking in the last of the servants and huge chunks of the castle. The entire place was devastated; it looked like a war zone, and the battle had yet to finish. As the sphere and its power grew, Red feared that if he didn't convince Raven soon, he'd get sucked into nothingness with the rest of her make-believe friends. He pulled out the grappling gun to keep himself from getting drawn in; even the demon took a knee against the strength of the pull.

Then, with rapid-fire instincts, he undid the hook and shot it again at the wall closest to Raven; his feet gave out in the few seconds it took to execute his plan. He had almost been sucked in, but crazy, desperate ideas were all he had left.

With the line steady and in place, Red slowly made his way toward her, his flesh feeling as if it was on the verge of getting ripped off.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said as he moved closer.

"Stay where you are!"

Ceilings were stripped from the castle, disintegrating; the open wounds of the fortress showcased a black sky. The demon dug his giant hands into the floor, and Red was forced onto his knees, his willpower at its limit.

Raven was holding herself so small, terrified of the truth. She knew he was right, but she was scared, and that was why the world reacted the way it did. He needed to show her, needed to prove that he wasn't there to break down her world but bring her back to the real one.

Red hesitated and cursed himself, but with nothing else left and so much to lose, he reached up and yanked off his mask, letting it fly in the wind and be absorbed by the sphere.

"It's me, Raven, look!"

There was a moment where he thought she wouldn't, that she'd ignore him and he'd finally be sucked in and destroyed — but she did look up, her purple eyes wide and pained, and he realized he had been afraid that he'd never see them again.

She whispered, "No," and grimaced. The air crackled, as if there was some sort of disconnect or faulty wiring. The strength of the sphere grew and then wavered in her uncertainty, and Red took advantage of the shakiness to close the gap between them.

"Stop this," she begged.

"I'm sorry." Red knelt down beside her, still holding onto his lifeline.

Everything froze when he reached out to touch her cheek. Raven kept his gaze, and in his eyes he could see the terror and the tenderness in the hues of lilac and amethyst; he could see the reflection of his face.

"This is my home," she whispered. "These are my people.

Red held her face. "Baby, you know this isn't real."

Her voice was shaking, her eyes watering. "I was born here. My family, my friends — my friends…"

"Your friends…aren't here," he finished.

Raven didn't respond. She searched for cruelty and tricks on his face, but he had only sincerity to give her.

Red gripped her shoulders. "No one here is real," he repeated.

His words triggered her desperate anger; she slapped off his hands and pushed away from him. Her raw, unfiltered emotion restarted the chaos; the portal hovered closer, its swirls of black and white shadows threatening to send him somewhere he could never return. Red grabbed her wrists to keep her from scrambling away.

"Let go!" she snarled.

He was so close — he pulled her tightly into his chest.

"I know you're scared," he whispered. "I know it hurts."

The gravity at his back was painful; she was clawing at him, trying to pull him from her world and expel the unknown alongside him.

"Let go." She struggled against him futilely.

"I won't," he said.

"Please."

The world slowed down once more.

"Please."

Her voice was small, cracking. Maybe this was the only way she could see her parents. He didn't know anything about her past. The only rumors were that she was a halfling, that she was powerful and her temper could sink cities; but maybe she was just angry and hurt and alone. He was going to pull her from a place where she could see her parents, and even if it was fake, he could still see the cruelty in his actions.

Red pulled her tighter against him, his soft breathing against her hair.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "but I've come for you, and I can't leave without you. You have to come back. There's nothing for you here."

"My family is here."

"Your family's out there," he corrected gently.

"I — "

She didn't move; she didn't reject him, but she still didn't believe him fully.

They were still connected; he believed it, so he closed his eyes and held her warmly, and thought of all the things he wanted her to know, all the things she was missing, all the people missing her.

He thought of the Teen Titans, that day at the pizza place where he had first heard her laugh. He thought of Starfire waiting for her, lying to the others on a gut instinct, a reckless trust. He thought of Raven's physical body, lifeless in his bed, the books on his shelf that had her so intrigued; there was an image of an empty bird cage; flowers in the corner of her dimly lit room, flowers he'd buy her. Red thought of sincerity and selfishness, questions with difficult answers and impossible scenes of gossamer touches. He thought of the feelings he couldn't give breath to because he was afraid of what they'd become, what they'd bring. He thought of that quiet moment, side-by-side with the heart of Van Gogh.

And then her shoulders relaxed, and she slumped into a noiseless acceptance. She wrapped her arms around him; he thought he felt her sobbing into his shoulder.

* * *

The black sphere cracked and shattered behind them; its powerful gravity disappeared.. The castle around them splintered and broke off, revealing stone walkways levitating in red-dotted space.

When everything had calmed down and silence had overtaken the turmoil, he slowly let her go, trying to ignore the pounding of emptiness in his arms when she pulled away to hold onto herself.

It was done. Red had won — he had saved her.

Not knowing what else to say or do, he simply sat beside her quietly, their legs touching. He didn't want to scare her or push her, so he decided he'd wait for her to speak, taking the time to settle into the exhaustion.

It was done, he told himself again. The battle was over.

Red looked out at the black sky, realizing that they were back to the beginning; it was the same scenery from when he had first fallen into the mirror.

"I'm scared," she announced suddenly, her voice so quiet that he had thought he had imagined the spoken words.

"Don't be," he told her. "…Ask me anything."

She glanced at him, her eyes more expressive than he had ever seen them before. He thought that his bones would never forget the way she breathed in his arms.

"What's it like outside?" she asked.

"Good," Red answered instinctively, and then immediately regretted it.

It wasn't that good. It wasn't even decent. The world was pretty shitty, in comparison to what she had been dreaming. Would that change her mind?

"Well… Good enough," he revised softly.

She nodded slowly. "And my…friends?"

"You've got plenty," Red replied, a prompt frown settling onto his face as he thought of Boy Blunder's swift and painfully accurate torso kicks. He unconsciously touched the old injuries. "— And they're all fucking annoying." At the last second, Red sighed dramatically to keep his bitterness from showing; she smiled faintly.

"And… Who are you to me?"

"What?" Red froze. "Uh." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. He hadn't been expecting the question, but it brought up his own confusion. What was she to him? Would it change after this? Would she remember his face?

Did he want her to?

"We're not friends…?" she probed, knitting her brows at his hesitance.

"I'm… We're — " Red winced, briefly wondering if he should lie. "…Not really."

"Then, why are you here?" Her purples eyes were intense and focused, searching his face for familiarity.

There were so many things he could say, so many words that were unknown and undefined, even to him. But he simply said, "I don't like to half ass things," and though it was merely a different shade of the truth, he still felt the sting of secrets.

Raven looked like she was about to say something, poke holes in his excuse, but there was a sudden rumbling in the distance that disturbed the atmosphere. When they looked to the source, they saw a small white light, growing in size and might. It didn't feel dangerous, more familiar than anything else. Perhaps it was her power, come to cleanse everything.

Red felt her touch his hand, fingers brushing against his as she leaned forward.

There was a rush of electricity and an aching rawness. He wanted nothing more than to close the distance, to fill his lungs with her again.

"Will I see you when I wake?" she asked.

The full meaning of her words in the situation, and his shock, had him laughing loudly and earnestly.

"Unfortunately for you, yes."

Raven's lips twitched upward.

With a spurt of reckless fearlessness, Red brushed a strand of purple hair behind her ear and thought he'd never dream again.

The white light enveloped them.

* * *

 **A/N:**

This was a monster to write. I hope y'all enjoyed it though.

We'll talk soon!


	12. Demon Inside

**A/N:**

You guys are so supportive and so patient. Thanks for waiting, and for the love. I hope you enjoy this next chapter, my friends, and that your days go well!

* * *

12\. Demon Inside

"i know i  
should crumble  
for better reasons  
but have you seen  
that boy he brings  
the sun to its  
knees every  
night"

\- rupi kaur, _milk and honey_

When Raven opened her eyes, instead of seeing the familiar ceiling of X's mediocre apartment, she was greeted by a gray smokiness; it looked as if she was trapped in a moving watercolor painting. She sat up on cool tile in an incomplete hallway. It seemed to stretch on endlessly with an infinite amount of doors in front and behind her, each of various designs and colors. There was a buzz of noises from each door, voices and sounds she didn't recognize.

Raven stood up, taking in her surroundings. There wasn't any particular sign that let her know which direction was right, so she just picked the direction she faced when she had first sat up.

She had taken several steps when a door with a crystal knob caught her eye. She looked around as she stepped forward, but there was no security, no omen to warn her otherwise. Pressing her ear against the smooth wood, she heard boyish giggles and muffled whispers.

Raven turned the knob slowly, pausing, waiting. Nothing happened; no repercussion, so she pushed it opened and peeked through.

It was a room swept in the dim light of the waning moon. Raven could make out four bunk beds, totaling eight beds, but one was missing a body. In the bottom second bed was a small mountain made of think blankets. There was a flashlight turned on beneath it, illuminating two tiny bodies. One was reading from a book aloud, softly and slowly, tasting new syllables, and the other asked questions and tried to quiet his laugh.

There were several _Shh!_ 's from some of the other boys, ungracefully woken up due to a loud snort. Then, she closed the door and leaned her forehead against it.

Memories, she realized. These were memories, but they weren't hers.

"X's…?" she murmured.

It made sense. Her soul had connected to his, but who's to say it wasn't a two way street? The real question was: why was she there?

Raven stood in the hall amongst the low croon of the past, but there was no one there. She tried to think back to what she was doing before she had arrived, but she could only vaguely recall bits and pieces: her mother, her father, Azarath and the monks… And X. Had he been there? But how? Why?

So, then, what was this? Had she entered his mind in response or, perhaps, had his soul invaded?

"Hello?" Raven called out, but the confused greeting danced down the hall without a response.

She didn't know what she was supposed to do. Her only option was to hope that something would happen, either by walking endlessly down the corridor or explore the variety of doors.

At the thought, the heaviness of the situation finally dropped on her.

If these were doors that led to his memories, it'd be safe to assume that there were secrets here as well — secrets to his identity maybe.

Secrets for Robin.

 _Wait._

Shouldn't she give him the same respect and privacy she gave to her friends when it came to her empath abilities? There was that time she had wandered through Robin's nightmares; when she had realized, she had loyally turned her mind's eye away — because it was the right thing to do, because she wouldn't want others digging up her hidden skeletons. Then, there was also the risk of getting swept up in the other's emotions, powerful because it was his domain.

Upon reminding herself that he was a criminal, she had to wonder if the same rules applied.

Shouldn't she _want_ to find out his identity? There was the risk of getting swept up, of course, but wasn't that a risk she should take? A risk Robin would want her to take? Even if X had saved her so many times, he was still on the wrong side of the law.

 _Many times?_ She couldn't remember any specifics, but the thought felt right.

If she couldn't open doors, though, and all she could do was walk and call out for help, when would she leave? Behind her was the same infinite space as was in front of her, and the areas between the doors were smoky, the floor fading out to nothingness. Raven wasn't too interested in being caught in the oblivion of his mind.

"Just…walk, I guess," she mumbled to herself.

The doors she passed by were all different. No two had the same color, pattern, engravings, or even design, and they all whispered different things, held different secrets. She didn't know how much time had passed, knowing only that the temptation grew with each step and mysterious sound. When she heard girlish laughter behind a pink door, she couldn't resist any further and decided it'd be okay to at least press her ear to it.

 _"Tell me you love me."_

 _"Okay. I love me."_

 _"Be serious!"_

 _"I am. I love me very much."_

Raven pulled away from the laughter. The male voice was young, but it sounded familiar. She didn't know why.

As she continued her walk, another door caught her eye: it was light blue with horses etched into the corners. There was no knob; she'd probably have to push it open.

Raven placed her hand against it, wavering. She shouldn't be opening doors, she told herself. As an empath, there were unwritten rules she needed to follow; there were moral obligations, personal mottos, boundaries…

She bit her lip and pushed it open.

Inside were two little boys, one with fiery red hair whose back was to her, and in front of him was a crying blonde, his hands pressed against his eyes to try and block the flow of tears.

The blonde stammered out a sentence, but it was an incoherent, stuttering mess. Seconds later, he took a deep, shaky breath and tried again.

"I — I heard M-Mrs. Li say t-that they w-w-we-were g-g-oing to t-take you away," he sobbed.

"Because I hurt Mr. Daniel?" the redhead asked.

The blonde nodded.

"But he made Molly cry," the redhead said firmly.

"N-no one believes us," the other whispered. His wails slowed into hiccups and heaving. The silence between them seemed to have settled there with intentions of permanency, and Raven was about to close the door when the redhead dropped his head.

"Then," the redhead muttered, "should I cry, too?" His shoulders sagged and he brought his hands up to his face. Slowly, he began to tremble, and the act brought fresh tears to his friend.

"Please don't leave me, Jay."

"I don't know if I have a choice, Pete."

Raven closed the door, breathing out shakily against the horses.

 _Azarath Metrion Zinthos_ , she chanted. The emotions were starting to flood her dangerously. Resisting had been harder than she had initially thought; she wondered if it was because they were connected by their souls. If she lost herself to his past, she wouldn't be able to sever the bond and return. She needed to be firm in herself if she wanted to continue opening doors, she thought to herself.

Raven gathered herself with a few more seconds of chanting. Then, she continued down the hall, pressing her ear against doors that caught her attention. One door was silent, refusing to give up its secrets. When she had gripped the metal knob, it shocked her into jumping back; she decided against trying again. Another door gave her muted sobbing, and her chest ached at the sincerity of the misery. She was too afraid to look inside, scared that she wouldn't be able to resist the emotional tug. Maybe the connection between their souls was stronger than she had first believed; maybe his domain was too powerful. Or maybe it was something else…? Something sweet, something worse.

She shook her head of the strange thoughts and pressed her ear against a green door — loud panting — and then against a gray one — heavy rains.

Further up was a white door with red flowers. Raven turned the knob: the redhead was older, a man now. His hair had been vibrant and bright as a child, but age had deepened and darkened it.

He was pinning down a young woman with long, brown locks. Her blue dress was dirtied and ripped, and Raven's stomach churned at the thought of him having done that to her. She reminded herself that she had opened the book to the middle of the chapter; there were parts to the story that she didn't know. It was possible that she was misunderstanding the scenario. He wouldn't do something like that, not even in his pre-Red-X days. She ignored the nagging thought that she shouldn't care, that Robin wouldn't put it above the X to do such a thing.

Suddenly, he pulled a knife from his belt and pressed it against the woman's throat, drawing a thin line of blood. Raven cringed, hoping she wasn't about to be proven wrong.

"Are you going to kill me?" the girl asked. Her voice was soft, but Raven could hear the strength in it.

"Yes," he replied coolly.

"Can't you let me go?"

He seemed to mull it over before answering, "There are worse things than death."

Raven held onto the door, pulling it closer. She felt invasive, dirty. These were moments he treasured, moments he missed, moments he was ashamed of, moments he regretted. She shouldn't be going through these doors, flipping through the pages of his books as if she was privy to the information, as if it were a library and she was allowed to check in and out freely.

"Will you kiss me first?" the girl whispered.

"You want to die with such a cheap thing on your mind?"

"Is it cheap to want human touch before I go?"

This wasn't fair to him. Raven closed the door. This time, she walked with the purpose of blocking out all the noise, all of his dreams and griefs. She ignored the names that whispered out to her, the laughter — sometimes, those were the worst memories to watch. It'd be never-ending if she kept opening doors; the goal was to get out, not linger about looking for obscure clues.

Raven forced her eyes ahead and picked up speed. Maybe there was an end of the hall — it didn't seem particularly chronologically placed, but perhaps, up ahead, she might catch up with the present. As long as she didn't go through any more rooms, anything sounded doable. Raven wasn't afraid of getting trapped in the halls; the more likely horror was getting caught in the need to open doors, or even the deadly desire of entering the rooms.

 _"Goddammit Raven!"_

At the sound of her name, Raven stopped. The door was marked with the silhouette of a bird and a room number.

She clenched her hands — _No._ She had told herself she wouldn't open any more doors.

There were explosions and shrieks. She heard her name being shouted along swears several more times and felt her will waver.

Why was she so weak? There was no reason for her to go through his memories.

But… Was there reason for him to be calling her name?

And she _had_ found clues, small ones, important ones, ones that could help the team and Robin —

 _Stop it._

It was wrong. She wouldn't participate anymore. Raven took a stubborn step forward, denying the gravity of the door. When she raised her eyes down the hall, she saw a figure.

She hesitated, wariness reminding her that there could be traps everywhere, even in the depths of his mind, but she thought she heard his voice and her body pulsed in time to the notes. It was better than peering into another room, so she broke into a run toward the figure.

As she neared, she saw that it was X. He was faced away from her and out of uniform, but it was him. She knew it — not in the way one knows when they trust their gut, but in the way one knows the rays of the sun even with their eyes averted, the way an old friend could spot a silhouette in the crowd and immediately know whose heart it was.

Why did she know him like this?

"X," she greeted.

He didn't move; his head tilted upward, staring at something in his mind that she couldn't see.

"Hey," Raven called again. She took a hesitant step forward, unsure if she could touch him, if it would trigger something bad. "X," she said, licking her lips, "turn around."

X chuckled bitterly. "Are you thinking of your duty, even now?"

Her face was burning with guilt. She didn't know why. "No, I was just…"

"Raven — I think I could love you."

The words took her by surprise, and the way he said it, so softly, so gently, a delicate thought he wasn't ready to let go of — it made her stomach churn warmly.

"Do you think you could?" he asked. " _¿Podrías, amor?"_

There was a rush of energy behind her, and Raven turned just in time to see a red cloak and a flash of deep purple hair — Rage. The more sinister part of her walked past and then twisted around to smile at Raven.

"We could," Rage said. "I can."

Raven turned cold, reaching out to her other part. "No, don't — wait!"

But Rage ignored her and stepped in front of him. She gripped his neck; he was trembling.

Rage pulled his face closer to hers, purposely pressing her lips against his ears to whisper something Raven couldn't hear, all the while keeping eye contact with Raven defiantly. Then, as if whatever she said had alleviated his sunken shoulders, he hooked his hands beneath her thighs and hoisted her up to his level. Toned, pale legs tightened around his waist, helping to support her weight against him, and then they were kissing and X was sighing in foreign languages. Her hands — _my hands_ — were locked in his hair and he was moaning her name — _my name_ — and everything was wrong, everything was wrong, it shouldn't be like this.

Rage pulled away abruptly to sneer at Raven. "Red," she told her, but Raven didn't understand.

"Red," Rage said again, and in response he kissed down her jaw, down her neck, and then she was chanting it like a spell.

The floor cracked and Raven fell into the darkness below. The shadows stretched like hands, long fingers pulling her down. He had turned when she fell — familiar, golden eyes.

* * *

Raven didn't know how long she had been falling in the darkness, not knowing which way was up while she flipped through the air. Eventually, she landed into water, enveloped in its cool embrace. She swam upward and broke through the surface, heaving for air, and then wading to its edge, gripping hard rock.

It looked as if she had landed in a natural pool that had developed in a cavern. High above her was a hole where moonlight filtered through.

She pulled herself out, looking around. There didn't seem to be anyone there with her. Was this X's memory? It wasn't one of her own.

The cavern was dimly lit. The moonlight only reached the water, its light reflecting weakly on the walls. Raven heard the low hum of machinery before she saw its blinking lights in the darkness. As her senses focused, she could see the faint outlines of a table.

A few lamps lit up as Raven stepped into the workspace, illuminating some objects and steps. She dried suddenly, but the strange workings of magic and souls and mental spaces did not surprise her.

As Raven looked around, she thought that the place felt familiar, despite the fact that she had never been there before. Perhaps she had visited in dreams, in another life.

The workspace looked more technological and human, rather than cavernous like her pool entrance. One wall was a computer screen; the keyboard stretching its length, but there were no discernible buttons. On another wall were filing cabinets, and above it hung photos taken at awkward angles, hiding faces or showing parts of the chin or nose without ever fully revealing the subject.

In the center was a round table with maps; in the center, pinning the sheets, was a knife with a red hilt. Nearby was a large, free-standing cork board; there were hazy photos and newspaper clippings fastened to it.

Raven stepped forward and looked over the maps, all of Jump City. There were a few areas circled, but the sticky notes beside them were written in a code she didn't recognize.

A hand gripped her wrist suddenly. Raven jerked away, jumping back, but the one who greeted her was the worried face of Robin, masked even in his dreams.

"Raven!" He grabbed her wrist again and pulled her into a tight hug.

She was slow to react and silent in shock.

How long had it been since she had seen Robin or any of her other friends? This wasn't even a real, physical meeting, and yet the reassured feeling of a friend was refreshing, though it was quickly weighed down by the time and distance. She returned the tight grip, holding him close. There were so many things she needed to tell him, and then, she realized, there were just as many that she couldn't.

Finally, Raven pulled back and said, "Good to see you again, Boy Wonder," in her usual monotonous drawl, but there was a small smile on her lips. She had almost slipped up and called him Boy Blunder, but she ignored the flash of gold eyes and mechanical snickering in her ear and focused on her friend.

Robin's serious demeanor immediately took over; he frowned and gripped her shoulders. "I've been trying to reach you for weeks," he told her. "You haven't been responding. What's going on? What's happened? Where the hell are you?"

His voice was laced with concern and conspiracies, barely giving her time to formulate an answer — or an excuse.

"It was Red-X, wasn't it," he growled.

"How did you know?" Raven asked carefully, not wanting to show any incriminating emotions.

Were there incriminating emotions to show?

"He stole a book on demons," he informed her. Robin walked around her to the cork board; several of the pictures that were once blurry focused into images of Red-X on a rooftop, and then of him falling over the edge with a green blast. "Fought him several weeks ago." Robin whipped back to her. "Are you being held hostage?"

"No," she said. "No, I'm…"

Why was she tiptoeing around?

She was deciding what information to give, how to frame it, what not to say — but what for? Hadn't she decided that whatever information she had found would be used to help bring him to justice?

No, another part whispered, that particular argument had not been resolved.

Robin, taking her hesitation and silence for something else, something more horrifying, narrowed his eyes darkly and muttered, "I'll kill him. Whatever he's doing to you — whatever he's done — I'll give it back tenfold."

The room darkened until all that was left was the light above the circular table. Raven had almost forgotten: he had a little monster in him, too.

"It's not like that," she said, shaking her head. "He hasn't done anything; he saved me, actually."

"Saved you? What are you talking about? Raven, that's what _we're_ trying to do. He's tricking you; he's the one who put you in danger in the first place."

At his tone, she took a closer look at him. There was exhaustion in the lines of his face, an anger in the way he was holding himself, in the hard way he clutched the cork board.

She felt anxious suddenly. Memories of late nights bent over papers and maps in the light of a glowing screen flickered through her head — his memories. Insomnia and frustration seeped into her. She closed her eyes against the flow of his pulsing emotions.

He dropped his voice. "Raven..."

In the air, she could taste the bittersweetness of worry and the spiced flare of hatred.

"Stop," she muttered, holding onto her head. "Wait."

She pulled back into her mind, trying to center herself and reinforce her defenses against the oncoming emotions. In response, the two of them were pulled into her domain, the cave melting to reveal gray skies and stone arches.

Robin looked around at the change. They were on a floating slab; on either side were large arches, and in the center was a great, leafless tree. His attention honed in on something. She followed his gaze: a black door. He had never been there before, so he wouldn't know, but she frowned. The door didn't belong to her.

 _X's...?_

There was movement in the trees.

They looked up to the source: it was the four-eyed Rage on a thick branch, her leg hanging over it sensually.

"Why did you bring him here?" Rage asked accusingly.

"I didn't," Raven said.

Rage sneered at her, as if there was something she knew that Raven didn't.

"Who are you talking to?" Robin asked. "The bird?"

"…A part of me," she said. Raven glanced to him. He couldn't see her true form, nor could he hear her — Rage's doing, maybe.

"Why don't you tell him?" Rage curled her upper lip at him. "She's talking to her demon half, boy."

"Don't call him that," she snapped, but Robin only looked between the two in confusion, only hearing half of the conversation.

Then, in frustration, he grabbed Raven's arms and demanded, "Tell me where you are. We'll come save you."

"She doesn't need saving, _boy_."

"Shut _up_ ," Raven hissed.

"What?" Robin asked.

"No, not you —" She shook her head, brushing off his grip. "Just…forget it. I'm coming back soon," she said. It wasn't the complete truth, but it wasn't a true lie. She should be going back to T-Tower pretty soon; she just didn't know when.

"You're going to escape?" he asked.

"I'm…"

"Are you going to tell him?" Rage growled.

"I'm working on it," Raven answered finally.

Robin eyed her strangely, but not suspiciously, and that only made her feel ill. He couldn't believe that it was in her to keep such secrets from him, and yet, there she was, giving him half-truths even though she didn't know what for and what made them secrets. He looked to Rage in the tree, unable to see the condescending glare.

"Rae…you're…not being your usual self," Robin said quietly. "…There's something you're not telling me."

She didn't know how to respond.

"We've been worried," he whispered. "Raven, I…" Hesitantly, he reached out to grasp her hand.

At his touch, she felt the return of the anxiety, the sleepless nights, the anger, the guilt. He blamed himself. It had been his call, that night, his plan. He thought it was his fault.

"I'm okay," Raven insisted. "I'm… I'm in a coma. I've been coming in and out, but my body is healing."

He nodded, listening to the bare-skeleton facts without realizing anything. What was she _doing_?

"I'm not sure where I am," she continued, ignoring Rage's sounds of disdain and disapproval. "I haven't been able to really see anything, but I feel stronger every day. I should be able to come home soon."

"Good." Robin smiled in relief. "Then, you might be able to capture him when you come to — but only if you're up to it. If not, I want you home immediately. We can regroup and get him together."

She nodded, hoping that this would be enough to satisfy him until she could figure out an actual course of action.

Robin looked at her suddenly, his face lighting up. "Maybe," he started, "maybe I can find you." At her expression, he elaborated, "We're connected — so maybe I can see things through your eyes, like that one time you saw Slade through mine."

Rage looked at her in fury. "You wouldn't," she hissed.

"It's better if we know where you are. We can meet up; we can surround his lair; you can come back sooner, safer."

His grip on her hand tightened.

"It's worth a try," Robin urged. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her other hand and leaned closer, closing his eyes with knitted brows.

The effect was immediate. Raven felt his mind probing hers, his soul looking for access, confused as to why she was hesitating, why she had walls up. Rage snarled from where she stood in the tree, looking ready to jump down and slit throats.

Raven winced at the feeling of someone trying to enter; she had never been on this side before, always having been the one to probe and invade. She instinctively jerked away, but he held on securely.

She felt her memories unlocking; images were being pulled from her mind: there was Van Gogh on a lap, and then _Dracula_ soaring through the air. As Robin's mind moved past them, the thin connection to her physical body strengthened and thickened, glowing with invasion.

She tried to open her mouth, tried to tell him to wait, to stop, that she had it under control, but then he was fully in her head and she was seeing things, too — bookshelves and knickknacks, bare walls and blankets.

The TV was on. Someone was whistling — _No! No!_

Logically, she understood this was the best way to find Red-X's identity. This next step made sense; it was sneaky and necessary, resourceful. It was an opportunity to take advantage of, but panic still filled her.

Crumbled walls began to rebuild; fear made the connection jerky. She felt Robin wondering why wouldn't give him free reign. In her head, she heard him murmuring that it'd be okay, that he wouldn't open things she didn't want to, that he missed her and only wanted her back, only wanted to help.

But she wasn't afraid of him opening up her secrets.

Robin's forehead touched hers.

 _"I think I see something,"_ she heard Robin say.

The images twitched and blurred with static.

She felt fingers in her hair — _they_ felt fingers in her hair. There was a flash of dark skin; three moles on the back of a neck; soft murmuring — _"Hurry up, pajarita," —_ and then Rage suddenly emerged from a dark swirl beneath them, pushing Robin back forcefully as she stood aggressively between them.

The connection was broken when they were no longer touching. Robin jumped to his feet, thinking there was an attack, but upon seeing Rage as her true self rather than a bird — and the fact that she was Raven's replication with four eyes — he took a defensive step backward.

Rage's eyes glowed from dim red to a fuming crimson. The air began to crackle. He gave one bewildered look to Raven before he was blasted off the ground with magic, pushed out of her mind by a snarling Rage.

She turned to Raven next and bared her fanged teeth. "You're weak," she accused, and then Raven was suddenly thrown back by the same magic.

Raven fell over the edge into the darkness with a scream. Shadowy hands looped around her again as the light was taken from her eyes.

Then there was nothing, only silence, only the cold.

For a horrifying second, she thought that Rage had sacrificed them all, that by pushing her off while she was still connected to X's mind meant that now she was trapped in limbo, in the space between consciousness and memories, between her shadow and his self.

Then — a low rumble of energy, a hushed crooning of life. Warmth slowly returned to her body, trickling in through her toes and fingertips.

There was a presence, one whose aura she recognized, one that relaxed her.

The whistling was back, slowly fading to a soft humming, lulling her into peace; and then Raven heard it again, timid and tender and so unexpected.

 _"Hurry up, pajarita."_

* * *

 **A/N:**

Leave some love if you can. See you soon!


	13. Hollowed Out

**A/N:**

HNG.

I hope you guys have a banging year, and that y'all had banging holidays.

* * *

13\. Hollowed Out

"If it weren't for her, there would never have been an empty space, or the need to fill it."

— Nicole Krause, _The History of Love_

Red's eyes glazed against the words inked black onto the page. The book was held firmly in his hands, but his mind had once again wandered.

He had never thought of himself as sentimental, and yet these past few days he often caught himself thinking about the chimes in a certain demon's laughter, the smooth curl of her hair — the air buzzing tentatively when they had flipped through Van Gogh's artworks –– the air buzzing sweetly when she had leaned forward and asked if she would see him when she waked.

His eyes refocused onto the print, but every other letter coiled into a purple thread and his chest welled with irritation and rapture.

He had never thought of himself as sentimental, or lonely, or lovestruck — but it seemed parasites came with infections.

Infections and secrets.

But of course, he was not a better man. If he came upon a secret, simply folded in half, he would unfold it — Raven's letter was no exception.

Her smooth script was etched into memory, addressed to Robin:

 _I'm safe. Be back soon._

— _Rachel_

It was simple. It was silent.

Why not say more?

Or perhaps — perhaps she had. Perhaps his suspicions had been right: she had carved Red's secrets with magic, and only her leader could see it.

When his eyes had refocused, he found that he had stepped to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe to stare curiously at her impassive expression. She had stopped floating by the time he had come back from the tower. At first, he had panicked, thinking that something went wrong when he had left, but the more he had observed, the more he realized that it was a good thing, that the worst of her injuries were probably healed.

Some color had returned to her skin — as much color as her grey complexion allowed. Her breathing was steady, and the bird never returned to call to him for help. All that was left was to wait. He had done as much as he could.

Despite the thought, it had been four days since his completed mission and she still had yet to awaken. The portal had brought him to Starfire's room. She must've brought the mirror back to her place, realizing that if she stayed any longer in Raven's room, the others would've become too suspicious. Red thought he didn't give the alien girl enough credit. The room was dark and empty when he had been transported back; he figured the heroes were out on duty, but he had managed to find scented paper and gel pens in her room to scribble a quick note to let her know of his return.

It was shorter than Raven's message to Robin. He had only written, _Back_ , and left it on the mirror, but his wasn't wrought with secret messages and pseudonyms and clues.

 _Rachel._

Why that name in particular?

Why a name at all? Why not just _R?_

Why to Robin?

Red shook his head; he was being ridiculous. He had forgotten that sentiment came with problems. He had left Starfire's room without having explored the tower freely, something even the most basic and novice criminal would've done had they been in the same situation; and now, he was thinking about Raven's letter in the all the wrong perspectives.

Why Robin?

Why wouldn't it be Robin? The leader of the motley crew?

 _Were you fucking her?_

Wrong question.

He was getting soft. She was making him soft.

This wasn't what Red had wanted when he had scooped her up from the trash bins. To be fair, he hadn't thought about it at all when he had saved her. He just did. And he kept her, and he nurtured her, and he protected her — and he saved her again, this time with full intentions to do so.

She had warned him about chest infections, and yet it had happened anyway.

 _Raven._

 _I think I could love you._

 _Do you think you could?_

 _"I…"_

 _Red eyes, not purple, smiled at him. "We could," she said. "I can."_

 _Then, it was all groans and touches, all sparks and sears; and it didn't matter that her eyes were the color of oxidation rather than amethyst; it didn't matter that this version was more demon than witch, not when his hands were uncovering her skin, not when she shook and shivered beneath every coarse caress. She whispered his name, a chant, a hex — he could accept this — Raven but not, and yet Raven still — and then, because he couldn't win even in his dreams, she faded into smoke, and his arms collapsed in on themselves, aching with a delicate emptiness he hadn't felt in a long, long time._

Red frowned. He had tried making a pro and con list earlier, but it had proved to be useless, pausing when his line of thought ended up reaching rather useless pointless lines.

 _Pro: Sex._

 _Con: Demon sex._

 _Wait — should that be a pro?_

He returned to the couch, shifting his mask that sat awkwardly and uncomfortably on his face, or maybe it was because he had pulled it off in her mind and his fingers twitched to do it again, out here in open air.

 _"Will I see you when I wake?"_

Unfair that she had said it without knowing what it entailed.

Unfair that she made him care, that she made him grieve — that he was lonely for her — that he was lonely.

Unfair that his world of grey needed hues of white, but hers wanted nothing of him.

"What's unfair?"

He opened his eyes — Raven was standing on the other side of the room, near the hall.

"Are you reading my mind?" Red asked.

She rolled her eyes. "You were talking out loud."

"Was I?" he mused. "Well, then I was just talking to myself."

Red didn't know what to expect. He had known she'd come back, wild and fierce as black fire was. She fought him savagely to stay in her dreams; he was sure she'd fight just as strongly to leave, once shown the truth.

And now, after four days of waiting, she had returned.

At first, he had been scared that he'd felt the ache to hold her, to welcome her back with human touch — he had accepted this oddness she had cultivated in him, but it didn't mean he understood it. It was normal for thieves to dance along wires, but this wasn't a line he was sure he wanted to indulge.

She was here now, but he felt no clichéd tears, no throbbing of his skin, no urgency to rise to his feet and rush to her.

Just a soft exhale, held not too many seconds long. Just a gentle relaxing of stiff shoulders. A tired tilt of the head. A full, full chest.

"Welcome back, Raven."

There was a quick hesitation that she tried to hide.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "It's…good to be back."

The words sounded as foreign to his ears as it was for her to say, he was sure, and yet he still smiled beneath the mask.

"Are you…?" Red let the unfinished question linger.

Raven shook her head. "No," she said, sounding disappointed. "Not yet. But I feel stronger." She sat onto the usual armchair, away from him, and said, "It should be any day now. Soon."

"Good…" he murmured.

He caught her odd glance to him.

"Yes…" she said.

A silence settled between them then. It was not the first, and it wouldn't be the last, but it was an awkward quiet that they weren't used to — awkward, but not uncomfortable.

Red didn't know what it meant, what the lack of words, the absence of noise — not even the sound of his breathing — all meant; he didn't know if he wanted it to mean anything. He felt as if he was standing feet away from the line, and she stood on the other side, not noticing him, but he noticed her (his eyes finding her figure easily, his ears trained for the light songs interlaced through the lilt of her voice), and he heard the thought as if it had come not from his mouth but from deep inside him, deep in his bones, his marrow, to the place where the infection first flourished — _I think I could love you._

He looked away — there was a sudden fear that he would not have the willpower to do so again.

"X."

"Mhmm?"

"I asked you what happened."

For a moment, Red thought she was referring to the change in atmosphere between them, but when he looked back at her, taking in the way her arms were long and elegant and smooth, wrapped around her knees, he realized that she had been referring to the gaps in her memories.

"You don't remember?" he asked for clarification.

"I remember bits and pieces," she admitted. "Azarath, my parents…"

 _Me?_

"That's it?" he asked casually.

"Yes," she said.

Was he relieved? Was he hurt? Was it possible to be both, and more?

"It's hazy," Raven continued. "A lot of darkness, a long darkness, and then… I woke up here, again."

He snorted at the way she had said it. "Trust me, babe — that's the best case scenario."

Red had expected a snarky remark about how that was severely incorrect, but she only looked at him with unreadable eyes. He wondered what she was thinking; he wondered if Raven truly didn't remember — but what would be the point in lying?

"What happened?" she asked again.

"I saved you," he replied.

She stared at him expressionless, but there seemed to be something happening behind the eyes; he just didn't know what. But then, before he could analyze further, she averted her gaze and brushed stray strands of hair out of her face, and his fingers hummed with the memory of it, a harsh betrayal by his body. Raven shifted in her chair — _the_ chair, he corrected with a wince.

"Why?" she asked suddenly, echoing the sentiment and situation of that night several weeks ago.

It was nearing three weeks, and yet it seemed as if she had been in his life for the last three months, and in his dreams for the last three years.

It was important to stay indifferent, he reminded himself. Stay on the other side of the line — or dance along it — whichever — but it was imperative that he not let her know. He could see her like the sunlight, but it would have to be from the shade, hidden. Whatever was being created, whatever he was on the verge of nurturing, he'd take a look at it first before letting it bask in warmth. Maybe he wouldn't even want it to breathe, in the end. Maybe he'd end up suffocating it before it could feel golden warmth.

Red stretched, making the act as obnoxiously nonchalant as possible. "Like I said before," he said. "You have a nice set of legs."

However, she wasn't sidetracked.

"X," Raven growled irritably. "Please be _fucking_ _serious_ for once." She went on, "How does this only look out for number one? You're not getting immunity. Why not just let me die?"

"Hmm." Red tapped his chin as if he was deep in thought, when really he just wanted to dig under her skin. "Why not indeed."

The first time he saved her from the dumpsters and from Golem's greedy eyes, he could only chalk it up to whims and impulses — just because.

He didn't save her this time _just because,_ though _._

This time, there were reasons. He could accept that there were reasons.

While he had been free of her spirit, he had still been haunted by her terrified eyes as she sank into darkness. He saw his own skull mask reflected in purple shadows, begging for human touch — and it wasn't cheap to want human touch.

Red had found her in his dreams, and he had meant what he said, sincerely, even if he had only meant it for a moment, even if it had been said in the midst of mist and fog, brought on by sleep taken after too many nights of staring at tomes and towers.

He couldn't tell her any of that, though.

He couldn't tell her that he understood, that he got it, that he had come to terms with the fact that, perhaps, he was lonely, that he had been lonely, that she had shown him the empty space vibrating inside, waiting to be filled.

He couldn't tell her that he found her fascinating. He couldn't tell her that he liked her fire and her flesh, her hesitation and her breathing, her scowls, her dreaming.

And the problem wasn't that Red liked her purple eyes or snarls of disgust or quick and vibrant smile under a fading sun; it was that he had dropped everything to save her — it was that he saw her still in his head — it was that he was trying to find a way to tell her all of this: that this, whatever _this_ was, had been happening slowly to him over the course of three weeks, and yet looking back, he thought it had happened too quickly — so much like the shifting of the night sky into day, gradual, and yet it descended all at once, eating all that intimate darkness.

He couldn't explain any of it, and he couldn't tell her any of it, and he wasn't dying to, but maybe part of him wanted to, and maybe part of him just wanted her to tell him he was crazy.

All of this confusion in only three weeks. He almost laughed.

" _X_ ," Raven urged, and he was pulled back to the moment. She was waiting impatiently for an answer and he was getting lost in the maze.

"I _saved_ you," he said. "Let's just leave at that."

She wouldn't. Of course she wouldn't. Her face scrunched up into frustration, annoyance. "But _why_?" she asked.

"Why does it matter? I'm a good Samaritan."

"You're not," she said.

He looked at her. She was serious.

Right. Right, he thought.

"Yeah," Red said. "I'm not."

The silence returned. Raven was staring at him, but he shifted into a more comfortable position, face pointedly not angled at her, and then he turned on the television and surfed through the channels until he came to some old cartoon.

"I don't understand," Raven muttered after a while. It sounded as if she hadn't meant to say it out loud. Maybe she hadn't even realized that she had said it aloud, the way she was staring at the coffee table with furrowed brows.

 _"Who are you to me?"_

He turned the volume up.

* * *

Finally noticing the pile of books stacked beneath the windowsill, Raven asked, "Are those mine?"

He glanced over to the pile and thought that _books_ made them seem casual in nature, when in actuality, they were hefty and scholastic and utterly _pointless_.

"Yup," Red said.

"You went into my room?" She only sounded partially annoyed. Was she trying to make small talk? Had she noticed that there was a strangeness between the two of them now, and she had wanted to start a conversation, any conversation, to bring it back to what it used to be before, flaring with aggravation and angry uncertainties, rather than quiet unknowns?

"You went into the _tower_?" she demanded.

He kept his eyes on the screen. "A necessary evil. Let's keep in mind that I saved you by going there."

"For my tomes…" she finished. Then, as if she realized what it meant, she raised a brow at him. "You understood what was written?"

"Oh, no, your books were completely useless. It was your wack-ass mirror that sucked me into your wack-ass brain."

" _What_?"

"Yeah, that's how I saved your sorry ass," he continued. "Went into your room, got sucked into the mirror, pulled you out of your Azarath illusion or whatever, and here we are, four days later."

"Pulled me out _how_?" she said in disbelief, as if he was incapable of saving people.

He frowned, and then shrugged. "Just talked. Nothing crazy."

"What'd you say?"

Red didn't growl or swear in frustration, but his head fell back against the top of the couch. Why was it that he had missed her again?

" _Nothing_ ," Red said. "I said you were in an illusion and you didn't believe me. I said it _again_ , and then wham, bam, thank you ma'am, I convinced you and all was good."

"That's a sexual phrase," Raven pointed out.

"Is it?" He tilted his head. "Hm. Well, we just talked, unfortunately for you. You'll have to take me out to dinner first. It's a rule I have."

Raven glared at him, probably wondering why she was stuck with him of all people as she returned her gaze back to the television screen. His eyes lingered longer on the line of her jaw, but then he, too, returned to the screen, telling himself that he was content in the awkward quiet.

But then he caught her looking at him, and this time, he groaned aloud.

"What _now_?" he said.

She looked ready to lash out at him, but she held back and instead, asked, "What happened to your suit?"

Red tapped his finger against his thigh, impatient. "It's in the shop," he replied. He picked up the remote and surfed through the channels again, thinking that, maybe if he looked busy and intrigued with something else, she would leave him alone. Hopefully, she'd take the hint and go into the bedroom to mope or read, anything than this, a harassment of questions he had already received mentally. He had done enough confusing questions over the last few days. Now that Raven was safe and sound, he could do with some mindless cartoons.

But she was _still_ looking at him.

 _Of fucking course._

"Why?"

His eye twitched beneath the mask, another moment in which he wished she could see the aggravating effect she had on him. "You're quite talkative today, little bird," Red noted, though it was said with a long twang of irritation.

"You're quite cryptic today, thief," she retaliated, just as irked.

"No more than usual."

"You've given me next to nothing about what happened," Raven snapped. "I was out for four days and all you can tell me is _wham bam_? And when I'm trying to get any kind of information, you suddenly become so sensitive?"

"It's been four days since I saved you — you've been out of commission for a little longer than that. And I'm not sensitive, but seeing as how I thought I had a dead Titan in my apartment for the better half of a week, I think I deserve a little R and R."

Raven didn't respond, but she didn't need to, as he could tell that she was seething without even looking at her. He could feel her power swelling, suffocating the atmosphere. The time for her to leave really was soon.

With a sigh and the thought that he needed to do better at resisting pretty faces, he leaned forward, feet dropping to the floor.

"Alright," Red conceded tiredly. "Let's play a game."

"I don't want to play a stupid game," she said tightly. "I want you to actually answer my _fucking_ questions."

"Then you're in luck." He rested his elbow on his knee and his chin in his open palm, fingers curling around the unfamiliar mask. "Because the game I want to play is a question game. You ask a question, I'll answer a question; then I'll ask, and you answer. Simple, just like before."

"How is this any different than what I've been trying to get you to do?" she fumed.

"Easy." He tilted his head in that hateful way he knew pissed people off. "My way's a game and yours is an interrogation."

"What the hell are you — "

"So! Man of the house goes first," Red interrupted. "Dearest Raven, who is _Rachel_?"

Her face went slack for a moment, surprised, but then purple eyes narrowed and a silent indignation replaced shock. "You read the letter," she accused.

"You wrote a letter," was his response.

"You expected me to play prisoner?" she sneered, his antics stoking the coals of an old and familiar fire. "Roll over without a fight?"

He could handle this. He could understand this, the rattling of the cage; but he'd never stick a finger between the bars.

When she was done with her glowers, he pressed forward, asking, "Well?" and Raven folded her arms stubbornly.

"Why should I answer?" she shot back.

It was true. She didn't have any need to answer. He had nothing to threaten her with, nothing to tempt her with; they weren't even playing a drinking game.

Red shrugged in the end. "Sounds good, toots," he said smoothly. He kicked his feet back up onto the coffee table and looked back to the glowing screen, knowing her eyebrow twitched at the pet name and the sudden change in demeanor without having to look at her. "Guess I don't have any answers either."

There were a lot of questions he could ask, and the first ten that came to mind where things he didn't need to know, things he shouldn't want to know, but things he'd ask anyway. It was better this way. Yes, the separation in space and conversation was necessary. Once she left, things would return to normal — even if the thought rang hollow and false, he could do with a little normalcy.

Then, she suddenly announced, "I dropped Rachel and picked up Raven," and Red glanced to her in surprise. Her arms were still folded, and she was glaring at him despite the calm in her voice, but she _was_ looking at him and she _had_ answered — and God knows why she answered.

"When I came to Earth," she clarified.

He wanted to try the new sounds out in his mouth, feel how it would form, but he held back. Instead, he grinned, and ignored the prickles along his arm, and said, "Game on."

She didn't hesitate in pulling out the big guns. "Why did you save me? Twice?"

He rolled his eyes. "This again?"

"You never answered."

"I told you I was a good Samaritan," Red offered.

"And I told you no _fucking_ way," she scoffed.

"Is it really that hard to believe?" he sighed. "I came back from a heist and you disappeared into a weird fucking swirl. What did you expect me to do? Laugh and say, 'good riddance?'"

Raven had said it immediately: "Yes," and then they were looking at each other without any ruffled feathers or presumptions. They looked at each other in confusion and discomfort, and he knew and she knew, even with the mask, that they were staring at each other from across a clearly marked line.

"Yes," she repeated. "So, why didn't you? You could've brought me back to the tower, left it for the Titans to deal with. I didn't have any information on your hideout. It was an easy solution." The ferocity in the way she had held her arms crossed waned in time with her voice, monotonous and tightlipped, but cool, soft, hushed. "It was your ticket out, X. You didn't take it."

His chest was constricting, but he counted out the seconds as he breathed so as to not give anything away.

"…What do you want me to say?" he asked quietly. "You called out to me. I wasn't going to let you die."

"You could've," she said.

"No," he said. "I couldn't."

Red turned back to the screen, but he couldn't pay any attention to it, worse than before. Raven didn't even bother to hide the fact that she was still staring at him, trying to pick him apart, trying to see what was beneath the X — trying to remember what was beneath the mask?

Seconds became long minutes, and then the hours began passing quickly as the settled into an old routine that still somehow felt unfamiliar. They had gone through several episodes of old sitcoms in silence, and when he finally found _Spongebob_ , Red sprawled himself out on the couch, his legs over the armrest while his head was propped up by his arm, pressed into the cushions.

Maybe he could've said something else.

Maybe that was the opportunity he was waiting for, and he had passed it by.

But what was this mystical opportunity for? What was he waiting for? What did he want?

"X — "

He groaned dramatically, rolling over to face the back of the couch as if giving her a cold shoulder. He was getting bombarded by questions verbally and internally; Red had never known how hellish this was.

"Come on, Raven, seriously? More questions? I'm still trying to catch up on sleep, babe."

"Last question," she declared.

He closed his eyes. "Fine, go, what is it?"

"How's your chest?"

Was it clichéd to think that she was full of surprises?

He smiled.

"Fucked up worse, if you can believe it."

He heard her snort in reply.

"I _told_ you to breathe deeply," she snapped, but he didn't taste any poison.

"That you did, Raven," he murmured.

Sleep took him slowly. He tried to hang on to the sound of her breathing. As he slipped deeper into dark currents, he felt the couch shift, not realizing that his hair tickled her thighs, that she was sitting so close because she was stepping into his dreams.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Hope y'all enjoyed!


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